


Burnt Offerings

by nagia



Series: Burnt Offerings [3]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-27
Updated: 2009-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:04:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagia/pseuds/nagia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>True heroes don't let petty things like death stop them... and a hero's memories more often return in nightmares than in sweet dreams. Reincarnation fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1: Fear the Fall

Love deep as the sea as a rose must wither,  
As the rose-red seaweed that mocks the rose.  
Shall the dead take thought for the dead to love them?  
What love was ever as deep as a grave?  
—Algernon Charles Swinburne, "A Forsaken Garden"

* * *

  
_65 years ago_

Lachesis set down her needles with a dry, rasping _click_. "Well, will you look at that?" She said, staring at her creation.

Neither of her sisters was particularly amused. Atropos, Lady of the Shears, merely raised a wizened eyebrow and clucked with her tongue. The scissors in her hands shone, but she continued to polish them. Blindness, as with Justice, walked with all but one of the Fates at any time.

Clotho, being the wordiest of the three, furrowed her brow and wailed, "And how are we to see it if you won't lend us the eye?"

Her sisters' complaining was a constant vexation to Lachesis. She'd long ago learned to deal with it, but it was still irritating. One hand flew to the eye, which she had been hogging—not that she would call it "hogging"—for the past week. Her fingers dug in, and with a squishy sound, the eye popped away. She placed it in Clotho's outstretched hand.

Clotho popped the eyeball into one of her eye sockets and peered at the crochet in Lachesis' lap.

"My, that's a pretty one, isn't it?" She asked, delicately brushing gnarled fingers against the intricate patterns.

Atropos held out her hand, into which Clotho obediently passed the eye. She peered at the stitching, blinking slowly. "One perfect stitch in a rat's nest of tangles."

The halves of the scissors slid against each other.

"I want to cut it," Atropos whined.

Clotho was the one who objected. "No, not yet! Not time at all! We've decades to go and you know it. Why don't we have something to eat first?"

But Lachesis looked at the knitting. She saw nothing, but she knew it was there all the same. She'd had to weave blind before. She did it all the time.

Her fingers, wrinkled and bony from being ages upon ages old, traced the patterns also. They found the perfect stitch, and with that flash of bright-dark liquid _knowing_, she knew this one's name.

_Sora._

"They're all tied to this one somehow," she said as future after future¬ flashed behind her eye-sockets. "And it isn't even born yet. Loop after loop—they're all going to end—" she found it, the place where thread after thread touched along Hades' burning strand, pointed. "Here. They'll all end here, but look, they're doubling back so they can tie into this one." Back to the Sora stitch.

"Well, I'll be," Atropos mumbled. "Never seen anything like that before. Ever. What do you think it means?"

Lachesis had no need to pass along her liquid knowledge. Though they were three, they operated, in times of need, from one well of knowledge and memory. They weren't, after all, the original Fates, and it was difficult to train a new Fate. So when they had need of a new one, they simply dumped her predecessor's portion of the Well into her.

The Well created about as many hassles as it solved, but they carried on. They were the Fates, after all.

Clotho nodded, solemnly. Only one of her sisters could see her, but she did it anyway. "Something big is coming. That Sora—"

"—a rascal, he's going to be. He's going to upset all your knitting, isn't he?" Atropos cackled, though at what, Lachesis wasn't sure.

Atropos was an odd one. Every Atropos was, and though it wasn't fair, Lachesis rather missed the Atropos before this one. The Lady of the Shears was always hard to handle—calling this one 'out there' just wasn't right.

Even if it was true.

"Well, yes, but I suppose I'll forgive him. Hard to knit lives in a dead universe, after all."

"Keyblade masters. They're wild ones, aren't they?"

"Hah! Atropos, you say that as if you remember the last one. I don't think Lachesis was around—"

"—I was around for him. I remember the first, too. I'm only the second Weaver, after all."

"That's right. I'd forgotten. Does anyone want tea?" Clotho stood. With an absolute certainty few have, she made her way to what passed for a kitchen, here in Erebus. "We've got wine, too, and biscuits. And a fortune cookie, if anyone wants that."

Neither of her sisters answered. They'd talked enough. It was time to work.

* * *

  
_35 years ago_

Yuffie's lungs burned in a raw fire that tore at her with every breath. The breath that hurt her came to her in short, bursting pants. She bent at the waist, her hands going to her knees, as she tried to force air into lungs that didn't want to work.

One of those things had gotten a claw in her ribs. It had ripped straight through the blue shirt she so loved. Blood oozed from the wound, and she could feel something, like an icy-hot claw, wending its way into one of her softer, squishier innards.

In medical terms, that thing had fractured one of her ribs with its slice. The tip of that rib had punctured her right lung, and was even now working its way in deeper, like a sentient thorn.

She knew this. She knew what it meant: she was going to die.

Her legs were roiling masses of pain. Fire stretched up from her calves, curling around her thighs, every time she moved.

Tifa, she noticed, was up to her elbows in blood. Blood dripped down her face, dribbled from numerous wounds. Watery and wet and the scent of it, tangy and metallic, heaved itself through the air and Yuffie was _going to go insane_.

Fact: they were beaten. Fact: they were dying. Opinion: it shouldn't have been this way. Opinion: they should have been able to carry this off.

Cold, hard, heartbreaking fact: they hadn't been able to carry this off.

And gawd, wasn't that a bitch?

"We're not going to die!" Reeve hissed at her, his left hand easily pumping the shotgun. He took aim. The shotgun melded with his arm. The stance was perfect. His aim was perfect.

But they couldn't hold back the teeming mass of whatever-these-were.

They couldn't hold them back.

Somewhere in front of her, she could see Cid. His clothes were spattered with blood. In fact, his kidney area was a great mass of red, had been for some time.

The spear was above his head, spinning—spinning—

"No!" Yuffie screamed, "Look out!" But it was only coming out a harsh burble. A loud one, but still, just a gurgle.

That blond head turned to look at her, eyes that flashing piercing Ice-2 blue made contact with hers.

She saw them widen as the threat she'd tried to warn him about got him in the gut. The blade-hand-thing slid in—Cid's body jerked—up—his body jerked more—and then out, covered in blood and a coil of something brown and red and _oozing_ and love of Leviathan, Cid was falling, Cid was _falling_—

His body hit the ground with a heavy sound and both Yuffie and Tifa were moving forward.

He was dying, though, there was no escaping that, and running was working the rib deeper into her lung, she could feel it. She bent down. There was a slightly surprised expression on his face.

He was trying to talk, but all that was coming out of his lips were wet, gurgling sounds. He turned his head, spitting blood, and it reminded her of the time he'd spat out a cigarette, angrily stomping on it and swearing at Cloud.

"Hey there," she lied, "you're going to be just fine. We'll patch you right up." The lies and the tears and the rib in her lung all choked her, made her words come out watery and tearful and wrong, but that was okay because his expression was changing. He was smiling now, reaching up to touch her.

"That's m' girl," he tried to say, and she was crying now, knowing that he wasn't going to be okay, they weren't going to patch him up, that she could only understand him because she knew him so well, "thief 'n a liar."

And then Tifa was helping her close his eyes and they were moving forward. Yuffie didn't want to leave him, but Tifa was dragging her along.

Staying in one place would get them killed.

_

* * *

__35 years ago_

Vincent knew something was wrong because Yuffie had stopped talking, screaming, gasping. Her breath, he noted, was coming in very short gasps.

She came to a stop, her hand reaching out.

He stopped as well.

"Yuffie?" He asked.

The Four-Point shuriken dropped from her fingers.

She looked tired, and Vincent felt blind panic spring, thick and liquid and warm in his throat. Acidic.

She began to cough. Her eyes were too wide, the pupils too dilated. They were so white in her dark-skinned face.

Her hands were trembling, and he could hear her heartbeat, rapid and panicky.

"Yuffie?" He asked, watching as one hand flew to her right side.

Carefully, he peeled away part of her shirt. Modesty was no longer an issue. He couldn't remember it having ever been one. That had been too long ago, and too far away.

She was a mass of blood and cuts and, skies above, he could see her _bones_. He could see her ribs.

She was panting now, eyes flooding with tears. Pain or sorrow? He wasn't sure. No way to tell. "Don't wanna die," she murmured, her fingers tracing something odd in her ribs. Was she indicating her lung?

But then the coughing started, and he understood. He didn't like it, desperately didn't want it to be happening—she was young, so young, too young—but he knew what it was.

A deflating lung.

She was starting to cough-retch now. Hacking, violent coughs. Blood came up, staining her chin and her chest and god, god, god. Her body jerked and twitched, spasms wracking her.

She reached out with her arms, clinging to his shirt and coughing, coughing, coughing.

He wrapped one arm around her, his good arm, and cradled her close. She choked and sobbed and drowned within the circle of his arms, coughing blood onto his shirt.

He didn't mind.

Not like he was going to be wearing this shirt anywhere, anyway.

Her hands clenched against him, tightening. Around them, the darkness swirled and spun, and she, retching, edged away from it.

"I don't want to die," she hack-coughed the words again, forcing them out of her mouth like blood-drops, pushing her head until it was just beneath his chin.

He allowed her to nuzzle him. Call it a dying comfort. Call it too many years of guilt. "Then don't."

But she was already coughing again. Her side was a mass of blood, wet and scabbed and caking and his claw pressed against it—

And she stilled.

He closed her eyes, an unspeakable sorrow adding to the weight of his cloak.

_

* * *

__35 years ago_

Vincent Valentine was back-to-back with another man. This hadn't happened in years. Since Sephiroth.

He could hear the buster sword ringing against the weapons of the creatures. The demons.

Inside him, Galian raged some sort of battle. Galian was pushing him over the edge. Yuffie's pleas—_don't wanna die_—haunted him. Worse, they spurred Galian to snarl louder. _Don't wanna die, don't wanna die, don't wanna die. _

Lucrecia. Aerith. Marlene. Tifa. Yuffie. God, he'd failed them all. All of them, dead. Why was he fighting at all? He didn't deserve to live. He deserved whatever death these demonic things could give him.

A harsh clang, and Cloud's foot slid backward. A step, just a step. Just enough to regain his balance.

Vincent did the same. Their spines touched.

Sword and claw and gun—nothing was holding them back anymore. Bang-bang-bang, three dead, but here are ten more to replace them. Slash-clang-slash-clang-slash, three more dead and here are a thousand more, have fun, kiddies, I'll—

He was joking in his head during a battle. Never a good sign. Ever. And they weren't even good jokes, either. Of course, they never were good jokes, were they?

The Cerberus began to click empty. He immediately reloaded it. Running low on ammo, he noted. Not that it mattered. This was a last stand. They were going to die here, that was clear.

He was going to die here. His corpse was going to sink into the black ink made out of creatures, and nothing would stop it.

The Cerberus fired, point-blank. Not even really aiming anymore. What was the point? He was bound to hit something, no matter where he pointed it.

He lashed out with the claw, but there were a thousand of them. It was a swarm. A horde. It didn't matter what he did anymore: they were coming, they were pressing forward. Bent on killing him.

One surged forward. Springing at him. It had something on its arm; he wasn't sure what. The thing dodged shot after shot. Kept moving forward. Step, step, step, step.

Vincent moved backward, leaning against Cloud, firing point-blank, his thoughts a whirl. _Have to keep control, don't want to die, please god please don't let me die—_

But the thing latched on. Whatever was on the end of its arm, it was sharp. Straight into the very bottom of his sternum. In, and up. The sharp thing was long, too, piercing right through him.

A wet sound. Cloud cried out. Their backs were now fused together. Speared, actually. The two of them were, quite literally, a shish kebob.

Oh god. It _hurt_. It was wet and it was messy and it _hurt_. His gasps were wet and bloody. Thick sounding.

Vincent groaned, his chest heaving along the knife-edge of the thing's arm. He brought the Cerberus to bear. He wanted a parting shot. Literally.

The thing's head caved in under the force of the bullet, but the arm stayed.

He looked down. Very quickly, he looked back up. He had a strong stomach, but no stomach can be strong enough when one's own chest has somebody's knife-arm sticking out.

Cloud gasped. Vincent didn't look back, though he wanted to. He simply had too much on his end.

Another wet sound. Gurgling, harsh and long and loud, as Cloud attempted to scream.

His legs were failing him. As were Cloud's. Slowly, they began to sink to their knees. Together.

Together, they sank. Together, they knelt.

Together, the darkness swallowed them up.

* * *

  
_28 years ago_

To his right, Selphie was swinging her nunchaku. One of the ends of the weapon struck a creature along the temple. She reeled backwards, shoving her boot into the creature's stomach, swinging the nunchaku again, until she was holding both ends and strangling it with the chain.

Blood, fresh and hot and red, stained the yellow sundress she loved to practice in. The stain was spreading, growing outwards and marring that perfect yellow.

No matter how good she was—and she was excellent, she was amazing, Squall was so proud of her—she couldn't evade every attack. She'd evaded a lot of them, though.

That pride turned almost immediately to horror. Even as she took down one creature, another was moving behind her. She half turned, hearing it, but before she could block the attack, it swiped her in the lower back.

Anyone could have seen the shock on her face. She struck out at it (he was so proud) and moved away, moving towards Irvine.

Squall took down another creature, striking out with his gunblade. He turned, taking down one that had tried to attack him from behind.

These things, he realised, were weak against blades. Knives. Swords. Gunblades. Whatever. All of those would be better weapons than guns or nunchaku or, Hyne forbid—

But there he was, small and bright and loud, screaming in rage. His eyes were vivid. Electric. Such a true, perfect blue.

He was covered in blood. Blood dripped from his tattoo. His gloves were stained with the ink of the creatures, his wrists, his elbows—up to his shoulders.

Zell turned to face Squall, cracking a smile. And then he went into one of his acrobatic tricks.

Squall turned away, watching as Irvine easily caught on to Selphie, one hand spasming against her back, trademark hat tipped, deliberately casually firing off the Valiant. It was barely making a dent in their forces, now.

To his left, Raijin, Fujin, and Seifer were all taking down demons. Seifer's gunblade was jammed, but that wasn't much of a change. He was steamrolling them, slice after slice after slice, putting them down like dogs.

Ah, in front of him. There she was.

And there was that crazy bitch.

Squall started forward, cutting his way through, remembering the battlefield of Galbadia versus Balamb. There—she was there.

The crazy bitch in the black dress was laughing. Rinoa had her weapon levelled at her.

He was proud of Rinoa, too. There was hardly a stain on her. She'd evaded and evaded.  
No doubt she was exhausted. But that was all right. Everything was going to be fine; he was coming. They would kill this crazy bitch together and all these demons would go away.

But as soon as he got there, the bitch turned on him. "Leonhart," she said.

And then it was Thundaga, and he screamed, remembering Seifer and the Desert Prison, lightning jolting down his spine, searching for the path of least resistance so it could hit the ground. He groaned, his voice raw, all of him raw, as his knees gave way.

He wasn't dead yet. He was going to take her out; he was going to take her on. He was going to kill her. They would kill her together.

His grip on the Lionheart shifted; he pulled himself up and charged.

She countered with the staff, the black metal sliding against the blade. Sparks flew. The weapons grated against each other and he winced at the sound.

The witch laughed, breaking their deadlock and moving forward even as he fell backward. The tip of the staff slid up, into his ribs. She had his lung, he realised; she had his _left lung_ with that thing.

The staff slid out, wet with his blood. It slid back in, kept sliding in and out and in and out, like sex but painful and penetrating the wrong partner. It sliced deep into his gut. She was turning him into a fucking pincushion.

He groaned, falling to his knees. The staff came down again, its round tip striking him in the head, striking again and again. And again. White light flashed before his eyes—all he could see was brightness—and then everything around him was going painful and mushy and grey—

His spine curved. The back of his head made a cracking sound against the tile floor as he fell and lay down at the same time.

He was so tired. His eyelids had gotten so heavy. How had his eyelids gotten this heavy?

He could only watch, feeling his life slip out of him, as that staff pierced Rinoa's gut. Rinoa screamed, but the sound was fading. Everything was fading.

Rinoa slid to the floor. Her hand reached out, fingers spasming.

"Yes, dear," the bitch said, her voice going soft. She took Rinoa's hand. Their fingers clasped together.

He watched as with her dying breath, Rinoa passed along her Sorceress gift.

"This was all I wanted, really," the bitch told her, smiling.

And then she walked away, that long black dress going slither-slither against the floor. As she passed him, she cast Thundaga again.

His body jerked. He forced his eyes to close.

Blackness.

* * *

  
_11 years ago_

"Come on, kiddo," Cid said, trying to drag Yuffie out of the castle.

They were everywhere. The fucking Heartless were everywhere. He'd trusted Ansem, goddamnit, he'd _trusted_ him. He'd thought he was a good king and oh god the kids were getting hurt because of the man he'd supported.

Fuck.

This was—this was—this was—this was wrong. How could this be happening?

Yuffie wasn't coming.

She was just a little kid—seven years old, seven years old, and Squall just fourteen, expecting them to handle this was insane—so how could she be so hard to drag? So tiny, like a little bird, light and small and with a piping voice, how could she be so hard to move?

God, they should never have seen this, never have—

"Come on, damn you!" He groaned. Helpless. God, he was twenty three. Wasn't he supposed to live a little? Just a motherfucking little?

Yuffie still wasn't moving.

He tugged a little harder. She squeaked and he winced. Likely, he'd nearly pulled her arm out of socket with that one. God, he felt like a complete asshole, but he had to get them out of here.

The castle was coming down around them. There wasn't even a safe place to step anymore. They had to get out of here.

"Come on, girly, come on," he murmured, not making a whole lot of sense, but who made sense under stress? Those feet finally began to move, step after step. Step after step after step, clickclickclick on the floor. "That's m' girl," he said, incoherently approving.

She froze, eyes widening, face going white. Panic. Oh shit, the brat was panicking. But why? What had sent her into it?

He continued to drag her, grabbing a tighter hold on Squall and pulling and pulling. They were like a knot of people, tightly tied, as they navigated the suddenly-deadly halls.

One of the Heatless in the purple hats—Wizards, Aerith had dubbed them, giggling like the schoolgirl she _should_ have been—cast a Thunder spell. They ducked past it, but it hit a pipe.

Squall turned around, trying to shove Yuffie forward, out of the way.

The pressure in the pipe was building, Cid could hear it hissing. He'd worked with the pipes and computers enough to know what was happening.

"Squall. Squall. Come away—"

And Squall was, he was back-pedalling like crazy but he wasn't turning around.

The pipe snapped, filling the air with hot steam. As Squall went down, another pipe snapped. The edge caught him in the face, slicing down between his eyes.

Blood spurted.

Yuffie made little noises. Scared noises. Disgusted noise.

God. Fuck. Damnit. Shitfuck. Fuckdamnit. He couldn't think of any words strong enough. With a quick movement, he was casting Cure, Cura, Curaga, who the fuck _knew_ what he was casting? It smelled like mint and tasted cold and thick and clean. Mint and lemon and something else.

The wound scabbed over, and he jerked Squall to his feet. "Come on. We gotta run."

And they ran.

They ran until his legs and his lungs burned, raw fire that spread everywhere. It burned in his toes and his nose and everywhere in between and g'damn, this was _familiar_.

Shouldn't he be swinging a spear?

He didn't know. Everything was confusing, tilting upside down and leftside out and everything was just crazy wrong.

And finally, they were there, the g'damn gummi ship. There should have been heavy metal pumping as he slid the door open and shoved both Yuffie and Squall into it. Instead, he heard guns firing and swords ringing against shadowed flesh.

God.

"Aerith," he demanded. "Aerith do you—"

But here she was, such a good girl. They were such good kids, all of them. Well, Yuffie was a twerp. But she was good at it, kinda cute, just generally a good kid, even if at some points irritating.

"Let's go," he said.

"But what about—" Yuffie began.

"No."

"But they'll—"

Cid shook his head. "I know. We're leavin' anyway. Ain't nothin' we can do, got it?"

Yuffie frowned.

Squall touched the scabbed-over injury. "We don't have a choice."

"Don't," Cid said, smacking his hand away from it. "You'll open it back up."

The boy, for once, listened.

* * *

TBC 28 JANUARY 08 


	2. 2: The Other Option

Can't forget the things you never said  
On days like these starts me thinking  
...You gave him you blood  
And your warm little diamond  
**He likes killing you after you're dead**  
—_Blood Roses_, Tori Amos

"When you jump off a cliff, there are two options. You can fall… or you can fly."  
—_Sandman_, Neil Gaiman

* * *

  
_33 years ago_

Cid awoke somewhere cold. He could hear the ocean. Whatever was underneath him was cold, smooth, disturbing. This was _not_ where he had fallen asleep. Shera had picked the covers, and they sometimes got hot in winter thanks to her taste.

But he hadn't fallen asleep at home, had he? He wasn't sure. He seemed to recall Yuffie staring down at him, but that was the damn dumbest thing he'd ever thought. There was no reason for Yuffie to be watchin' him fall asleep. There was a special hell for people who hurt girls that young.

Except Yuffie wasn't sixteen anymore, was she? She was—nineteen, now?

Why couldn't he remember?

"Whatever you're trying to remember," somebody said, "it's not important."

Cid sat up, looked around.

The speaker was a man wearing a black—fuck, the hell was _that_? He had _fire_ for hair, for the love of god!

"I'm Hades. Welcome to the world of the dead. Just chock full of excitement and fun." Hades snickered. "But not."

"The world of the dead?" Cid wondered.

Was he dead? He didn't remember dying. He checked himself over for wounds, but didn't find anything.

"You're dead all right." Hades moved forward, offered him a hand. "You died the death of a hero. In most cases, that'd send you straight to the Elysian Fields, but you're from—"

"He won't be going to the Fields, Hades," a hideously old crone who fuck it all had _not_ been there a minute ago chastised him.

A second little troll joined the first. "The world will soon have need of heroes. His is one of the threads doubling back."

"Joining with that Keyblade thread, huh?" Hades queried them. "Well. If that ain't a surprise…."

"It really shouldn't be!" A third, this one with only one eye—and it was here that Cid noticed that the other two crones lacked eyes, and wasn't that as gross as the space where his kidneys should be—added. "We've given you _how_ much warning?"

Hades looked at him, dark lips pursing. Was this weirdo pouting? Like a little kid? Well, if that wasn't the damn weirdest thing he'd seen today. Well, not counting the fact that he could touch his kidneys with his finger and it didn't hurt. Actually, it did hurt, but not in the insistent, "stop that, you'll die" sort of way. More in a perfunctory, "hey, you're touching your kidneys, that should probably hurt" sort of way.

"Fine," Hades finally said. And then those crazy burning-coal eyes were peering intently at him. It was like being on the receiving end of one of Vincent's trademarked 'penetrating stares'. "In order to be born in another world, you'll have to die here."

"Die again?" He wasn't that wild about it. But hey, if it got him away from this guy with hair weirder than Cloud's, it couldn't be that bad, right? Especially if that meant he would have actual intact kidneys.

No, that wasn't true.

"Yeah. Again."

"Fuck no."

"Well, then I guess you can't be born ag—"

"Fine!" Cid snapped, wishing like hell for a cigarette. "Do it. Now."

It was instantaneous. And as Cid slid back into a thick, inky darkness, his last thought was, _Well, shit. Wasn't it supposed to hurt?_

* * *

  
_26 years ago_

Vincent awoke in a dark cavern. A huge black dog was peering at him. Sniffing him. It appeared to dislike his scent: it whimpered and back away.

Groaning, he sat up. As he looked around, his chest began to ache. He put his good hand to it.

There was a hole in his chest. Just under the bottom of his sternum.

That was right. Something had impaled him with its arm. It had gone right through him and into Cloud.

God.

His head snapped up. He began to peer around, much more intently. He could tell: he was not alone here.

Somebody clapped their hands. It was a dry, rattling sound.

Vincent looked toward it.

The man clapping his hands was perhaps equally monstrous as Vincent himself. Flesh that particular shade between blue, white, and grey typical of bones. Hair made out of flame, blue flame. Eyes that burned like coal in that incredibly pale face. A black peplos, held together with skulls.

It would have been cheesy, if it hadn't been so hideous.

"You're a wary one," the peplos-clad man informed him. "I like that in a guy. Means we've got a live one." A chuckle, but then the stare turned serious. "Literally. Only the living feel fear. The dead don't feel much at all, but even if they did, fear wouldn't be it."

Vincent nodded. "I am incapable of death."

A nod from the other man. "Vincent Valentine. I'm Hades. You, you'd go right down there with Auron."

"But I'm not dead."

Hades smirked. "But you're not dead."

"I didn't arrive alone."

"No, you didn't. You were—stuck to somebody. Blonde. Crazy hair."

"Cloud Strife."

"Yeah, yeah, him. Crazy kid." Hades indicated his left arm. "We, ah, weren't sure whose was whose. You got here and everything was kind of mixed up. The Heartless blood tends to… melt things together."

Vincent peered down. The claw was gone, leaving only his arm. Gloved flesh, to hide the scarring. The skin had atrophied while he was dead the first time. Hojo had given him a prosthesis. Of sorts.

His cape was gone, too. How delightfully thoughtful of Hades. He had the feeling that if the stone floor _under_ him was cold, then the rest of this place would be cold as well.

"You gave him my cape?"

"Thought he might get cold."

"I'm the living one."

Hades smirked some more. "You've been dead before. Him, though, he was tied into some twerp. Had to kill him."

Rage flared. Within him, Galian roared his fury. He drew the Cerberus, ready and willing to kill this man.

Hades snapped his fingers.

The Cerberus rammed itself back into its holster. Vincent blinked.

"Don't go doing things you don't mean. I killed him so he could be born again. He'll come back here in about twenty years."

Vincent nodded, moving toward Hades, eyeing the three-headed dog. "And I?"

Hades smirked. "You're not alive. I can't just let you leave. But you're not dead, either. So I can't just let you stay."

"Is that so." He just couldn't make it into a question. He didn't tend to ask actual questions in any case, but still—

"Yeah. Oh well. I guess we'll keep you. Welcome to Erebus, Vince. You don't mind if I call you that do you?"

"Yes."

"Then get over it." Hades vanished in a puff of black fog. Save for the three-headed dog after which he'd named his gun, Vincent was alone.

Just the way he liked it, right?

* * *

  
_23 years ago_

Squall woke up on something as cold and hard as whatever he'd fallen asleep in. He groaned and held his head. That was the last time he would ever listen to Selphie about relaxation or spas. Seriously. Sure, sensory deprivation was a great way to relax, and lying on flat things was good for your back because it was a change—or whatever expensive new reason the people who ran spas would come up with next—

But _this_ was ridiculous.

"Did I pay money for this?" He demanded.

Somebody laughed. Turning around revealed that somebody to be a monster.

"Another of your loopy-thready people?" The monster demanded of three shadows Squall couldn't make out.

One of them nodded. "No mistake, he's tied to the boy."

His tone went flat. "The boy who isn't born yet."

"Tightly tied. He will aid him at least thrice."

"This is ridiculous. The brat's not even born yet. Can't I keep him for a while?"

Three old women screeched, "NO!"

Squall held his head and stood. "Who are you? What's going on here?"

He had fuzzy memories of Rinoa stretching out her hand to somebody. Lying on her back.

Had she…? No. That wasn't possible. Rinoa would never be unfaithful.

"Stop worrying about the girlfriend. It's not an issue. She's dead." The monster informed him. "I'm Hades, Lord of the Dead. Welcome to the Underworld." A wave of his finger and some of the fog slithering around them coalesced into a map.

According to the map, the Underworld had three levels accessible to the average dead soul: the Elysian Fields, on top, Tartarus, on bottom, and—YOU ARE HERE. Erebus.

"Erebus. The home of the River of Souls."

"I'm dead?" Squall found himself wondering aloud. When had that happened?

"Yes, you're dead." Hades eyed the three shadows Squall still couldn't see, no matter which way he shifted his head, they were moving out of his view. "But you don't have to stay that way."

"I can come back to life?"

Hades shrugged. The embers in that gaunt, hollow face bored into him. It was such an intense stare. He really didn't have words for that kind of intensity. He didn't want to have words for that kind of intensity.

"No. You'll never be Squall Leonhart, married to Rinoa Heartilly, Commander of Balamb Garden again. Rinoa is dead, too."

Rinoa—reaching out—mother of Hyne, she had been passing on her Power. And he had thought—

A hand patted, almost gently, onto his back. "Don't beat yourself up about that. Death's a crazy thing. Makes you talk crazy. Makes you think crazy. Now, you can't be Squall Leonhart of Balamb Garden ever again. Balamb quit existing about a year ago. Rinoa's been dead for that long, too."

"Kind of a long time to leave someone wherever I was."

Hades shrugged. "People all over the place are dyin', kid. Entire worlds. I got a backlog the size of the Fields. And heroes are zeroes down here, so it's not like I've got any special treatment for ya."

"If I can't be me, who am I going to be?"

Hades laughed. "Oh, you'll still be Squall Leonhart. That's part of the deal. But the Fates here are going to put you where you can help that pet boy of theirs."

Squall might have mentally travelled to the past and become a moron, thusly proving to his adopted sister that the past could not be changed. But he, Squall Leonhart, unlike Laguna Loire, was not a moron. He gave Hades a hard, calculating stare and finally asked, as slyly as he ever bothered to ask anything, "You don't know, do you?"

"I don't. Now this is my favourite part, so listen up. In order to be born in another world, you have to die here."

Squall nodded exactly once. "Get it over with," he said, steeling himself for pain.

It didn't even hurt.

* * *

  
_17 years ago_

Yuffie groaned as she awoke. Her entire body ached. Especially her lungs. Cuddling Vincent was the last thing she could remember. Which was crazy, because everybody knew vampires didn't cuddle. And it wasn't like she'd have wanted to cuddle Vincent, anyway, because he was—

That train of that ceased to be imporant. She wasn't alone. She realized that almost instantly. Her balance was off as she spun to face the newcomer.

It was a huge freaking dog. Big, black and three-headed. And it was slobbering.

Yuffie blinked and backed away from it. She backed away far enough and swift enough that she wound up bumping into somebody. A pair of arms wrapped around her waist from behind, preventing her from falling. She gasped a little, began to squirm. The arms released her.

"Yuffie?" That was Vincent's voice.

Yuffie turned, shocked to see Vincent. He looked so different. Thinner. Amazingly thin. Literally skin and bones.

"Love of Leviathan, Vincent, what the hell happened to you?!"

He shook his head. "That is not important."

"What are you talking about, not important?! You look like you've been starving for years! What—what happened?"

"I have given my answer."

"Well, that's a shitty answer, Vincent Valentine, and if you don't give me another one—" she stopped.

She had to stop. She had no threat for him. She never had, except for hugs or other physical contact, and those threats had stopped working lately. No matter how weird the situation had gotten, they probably wouldn't work now.

His expression turned sad. "…So you are no figment, then."

"I don't know, but I feel pretty damn real, thanks."

He nodded. That expression was still distant and sad. He didn't seem happy to see her at all. Not like he ever was, but she usually made him cheer up at least a little.

"Okay, what's going on here?"

"You're dead."

"What? No I'm not!" The protest was automatic. Of course she wasn't dead. She was talking, wasn't she? She felt pain, didn't she? How could she be dead?

But wouldn't that explain the pain in her lungs? The sensation of being cold, that feeling like she would never be warm again?

Vincent gave her his incredibly serious look.

Something cold clapped onto her shoulder. She gave little scream and a half-turn, realizing that it was a grey-white hand she saw.

"That's far enough, kiddos. I said I'd give you a little time alone, but I'm the one who has to do the explaining," said a man with a face like a square-jawed corpse. His eyes were looking straight past her. He was talking to Vincent, she realized, and she was supposed to be temporarily deaf or something.

"Because it's your favourite part," Vincent said. His voice was wry but there was an edge in it, a cutting edge. He was bitter, but more than that, he was bitter and going crazy. She'd bet her life on it.

Not that she had a life to bet, anymore. At least according to them.

"Vince was right, Miss Kisaragi," said corpse-face, this time looking at her, and she realized that she could burn herself on those eyes. "You're actually dead. D-e-d, dead. Previously expired. You are an ex-ninja."

"You made them wait six months before you told them they were dead, and now you turn around and steal their jokes," Vincent grumbled. Then again, Vincent was always grumbling about something.

Yuffie and corpse-face shared a look. "Okay, I'm dead," she said, "what's to explain?"

"Normally, you'd be going to the Elysian Fields." At her blank look, he explained, "Where heroes go after they die. Anyway, you WOULD be going there, but the Fates need you to live again."

"Right. Lemme guess. That means you have to kill me."

Corpse-face blinked. He turned to Vincent. "She's good. No wonder you like her." He turned to face her. "You're good, kid, you know that?"

"I'm religious," she replied. "We hear that kind of crap all the time."

The gasflame eyes flickered as he chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Are you ready?"

She held up a hand. "Two questions. Am I ever going to see Leviathan again? And what about Vincent? Will I ever see him again?"

The god of the dead—because that was who had to be, she just knew it—gave her a sly, almost pained look. "That first one, I don't know. I don't know any 'Leviathan'. As for the second one, well, that's all up to you guys."

And then it was over. She almost smiled as all her pain ebbed away.

* * *

TBC 28 JANUARY 08 


	3. 3: No More Miracles, Please

Coelum ipsum petimus stultitia.  
_Heaven itself we seek in our folly._  
—Horace

But it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.  
—_Alice in Wonderland_, Lewis Carroll

_

* * *

__(The Present Day)_

_Olympus Coliseum: The Underworld_

"I think I found our way out," Auron murmured, sharing a bit of bread he'd been able to procure from somewhere. The bread was sweet, flat, filled with honey on the inside. Vincent took an almost immediate disliking to the bread, but he ate it anyway.

It had been too long, far too long, since he had eaten anything at all. This was not a moment for preference.

"Excellent," he said, accepting the flask of wine Auron passed him. He sipped it carefully, the taste at once new and familiar, almost painful on his tongue and in his mouth. It was definitely painful for his throat. How had he never realized how parched he was?

"Aren't you going to ask?" Auron seemed almost amused, or as amused as he ever seemed. There was a trace of a smirk in his growl.

They might have been two halves of one whole, Vincent often found himself thinking.

"We'll need a plan. More than just a means of escape."

Cerberus moved toward them and they both went silent.

* * *

  
_Radiant Garden: Squall and Aerith's House_

For the third time that week, Yuffie woke alone and cold and somehow hating it. The sheets were too heavy on top of her, but she was freezing. With a few mumbled curses, she kicked off the covers and, shivering, got up to look for a pair of pyjama pants that actually fit.

The darkness of her room seemed somehow terrifying, when as little as two weeks ago, it wouldn't have bothered her. The Heartless weren't exactly gone and probably never would be, but the Claymores and constant habitation kept the house mostly clean. So why did the shadows scare her? Why did she have to fight the temptation to grab her shuriken and jump at every noise?

After a few minutes' searching, she found a fuzzy pair of pyjama pants. They were actually too long—they'd once been Squall's, she knew, and even at fourteen, he'd been taller than she would ever be—but right now, "too long" wasn't a problem.

She pulled them on and tied the red laces into a knot. Even in the dark, the red was vivid and suddenly she remembered a flash from her dream. She hadn't been alone. Thick, velvety, inky darkness had surrounded them. One of the people with her had been wearing something red. It had been so vivid that she'd known what colour it was, even without much light.

And then there had been someone staring at her. His eyes had been red. They'd glowed, too.

Scary.

She shuddered, both from cold and from the memory of her dream. Rather than think any more about it, she decided to find a decent fuzzy T-shirt or maybe a pullover. But she had nothing in her dresser, which left her laundry basket or the floor. And Yuffie drew the line (albeit a soft and near invisible one, as Yuffie and Lines In The Sand did not get along well in any situation) at wearing TWO items of dirty laundry and then crawling onto her soft, clean sheets.

That left only the closet. And the closet wasn't much of an option at all.

If the shadows of the room terrified her, then the prospect of opening her closet made her want to run to Aerith's room. Everything and its pet chocobo plushie went into the closet. Things she didn't have places for, things she _did_ have places for, weapons she'd grown out of or disliked. She was certain that her closet was an actual portal to hell and had been ever since they'd moved in.

There was no telling what would happen if she opened that door. There could be an avalanche. She could get impaled by the kunai she'd sharpened when she was seven. That red-eyed guy could show up _in real life_, hanging upside down from her coathangers.

At that image—surely his head would brush the floor if he did, and that red cape would go upside-down and silly looking—she laughed.

She rummaged around in her hellmouth closet, with her eyes firmly closed and only one arm, the other arm being busy trying to keep the door three-quarters closed. Eventually, she struck on something fuzzy and yanked it out, only to toss it at the full-length mirror somebody had found in the wreckage of the castle and given to her. Damned scarf.

It took her several more minutes of petrified searching, but she finally managed to withdraw a fuzzy yellow pullover. It even had a hood, she realized. Almost without thinking about it, she clicked on the light, just to remind herself of the horror that was this pullover.

Yep, it still had the googly eyes glued to the hood, and the tufts of fake feathers all over it. And the soft, plush beak where a collar should have gone.

Damned stupid chocobo pullover.

Stupid Squall, keeping the house this cold all the time. Just because it was summer didn't mean they needed to have the air conditioning running on negative fifty degrees.

* * *

  
_Olympus Coliseum: The Underworld_

Vincent stared at the boy. He had Cid's eyes, a fierce Ice3 blue, Tifa's hair, and Aerith's open, earnest expression. His tendency to fidget, his restlessness, reminded Vincent of Yuffie. And that hurt. It burned.

"I'm Sora," the boy said. He seemed almost hesitant, looking to Auron before introducing himself, and then looking at Auron again when he'd spoken.

Vincent said nothing, merely watched the boy, inspecting his mannerisms and missing AVALANCHE in a way that was too profound, too painful, for words. If this boy could take him to them, if this boy could help him regain what he'd lost, then he would do anything in his power to help him. He would do anything in his power to resume what he could of his former life, and if that meant holding a stone in his palm until he felt oddly invigorated, if that meant following this mere child around the slightly dangerous pathways of the Underworld, then he would do it.

The boy shifted, apparently uncomfortable with silence. "And you're Vincent, right? Auron told me a little about you."

Vincent crossed his arms over his chest. He peered down at the boy, establishing another thick, temporary silence before asking, "Is that so. What did he tell you?"

Sora shrugged. The sword he held on his shoulder shrugged with him and Vincent found his eyes tracing the black, shining form of that blade. Something about it screamed darkness and solace, something about it screamed that there was far more to this boy than there seemed. And that, too, reminded him of Yuffie, but also of Nanaki, and even of little Cait Sith. The "children" of their group had been so undervalued, so underestimated. And they had burned and chafed at it.

The entirety of AVALANCHE was a gaping hole in the heart he didn't believe he possessed.

"Just that you're somebody Hades trapped into working for him." The barest hint of pride at a connexion made. "Like Auron. Like Cloud, too."

At that name, something in him broke.

—_Let's mosey._

_—I'll try it, then. I'll call you; let you know how it goes._

"What?" He gestured with the claw, a sharp, flat sweeping motion. "You have news of Cloud?"

The boy backed away. For an instant, fear, wariness, and determination flashed on his face, but then the boy trusted him again. Thought he understood. Was Auron's recommendation really such a powerful thing? "Well, he _was_ in Radiant Garden, but then he and Sephiroth got in a fight again, and now he's, well, somewhere."

They were still alive. All of them. Somewhere. Cloud and Tifa, Barret, Cid, Nanaki, Reeve. Yuffie. Maybe even Aerith, though that, he thought, was a long shot.

"Anyway," the boy said, "I was going to enter the Pain and Panic Tournament again. Auron said you were pretty good with fighting and wouldn't mind joining me."

The truth was, Vincent never wanted to stand against a Heartless again. He'd fought too many of them. He had a scar on his sternum from where the Heartless that killed Cloud had impaled him.

But this boy was his ticket out of here. Moreover, he reminded Vincent of too many AVALANCHE members to turn him down.

The glee on his face was all Yuffie.

Vincent stared at the creatures that had ruined his unlife, stared at the strange, key-shaped sword in the boy's hands, and felt no regret.

* * *

  
_Radiant Garden: Aerith's House_

Okay, she would have expected some sort of reaction out of Squall. Maybe. If he was feeling ready to emote. And yeah, Aerith was pretty fashion-conscious. But Aerith _knew_ her. They understood each other, she and Aerith. Aerith would know the correct response to Yuffie showing up for breakfast wearing the chocobo pullover.

So why was Tifa—crazy, vanished-for-like-ever, didn't-know-anybody-anymore Tifa—the one who wasn't drawing attention to the fact that Yuffie's shirt easily reached her knees and had _googly eyes_ and a fake beak?

Squall, at least, had been reserved and appropriately taciturn in his reaction. "You're wearing my pants," even if delivered in a disapproving tone, said absolutely nothing about the chocobo pullover. Nothing directly, anyway, but there was an undertone of amusement there. He had something to add to, "You're wearing my pants," even if he wasn't going to say it.

Aerith, on the other hand...

If she never heard "What are you WEARING?!" in that tone or volume ever again, it would be too soon.

Yuffie poured herself a glass of orange juice—and very nearly added a heavy shot of vodka—before replying. "The chocobo pullover Cid gave me."

She moved onto fixing her plate. A chocolate-frosted donut with sprinkles, a piece of raisin bread toast smeared with butter and jam, a few sausages—Squall took three of them for himself immediately and then put four more back on the serving plate—and a few slices of bacon, which Squall didn't take, because everybody else already had some.

"I think it was a gag gift, sweetie." Aerith said, frowning, though Yuffie wasn't sure if Aerith was frowning at the shirt or at the fact that the ninja was sprinkling her toast with powdered sugar.

Squall raised one elegant eyebrow in a half-assed smirk. "You're going to give yourself diabetes."

Yuffie's toast was now white, while her sausages were more a 'salt and pepper' sort of colour. "Not with one meal."

"Every time you eat like that adds to the total." He took a pull from his extra-huge coffee mug and shook his head. Even though it was tangled and still rumpled from him having rolled off the couch and into the kitchen, his hair managed to do its typical swoosh-swirly thing, tossing like a lion's mane.

"Aaaaaand that wraps up our Statements So Obvious They Don't Mean A Damn Thing segment, brought to you by senior consultant Squall Leonhart! Mr. Leonhart prefers donations of pricy conditioner, so please don't go to the trouble of sending him money!"

Aerith and Tifa laughed. Well, Tifa let out a startled snort and then a snicker. Aerith just covered her mouth with the fingertips of one hand and giggled prettily.

Perhaps to show how super uberliciously mature and grown up he was, Squall didn't even try to melt her brains with a deathglare. "It's Leon," he muttered as he stood up, smoothly and gracefully, and put his coffee mug in the microwave.

Yuffie, knowing what would happen now, sat back in her chair and made funny faces at her food. To anyone who asked, she would have said that she was trying to eat it with her mind. The truth was, she could still see hints of red jam under the white powdered sugar. And red just was not her favourite colour today (not that it was her favourite colour anyway).

The traditional petty squabble of "Why do you have to re-heat it? It's right out of the pot!" versus "I'm reheating it because it's cold," washed right over her. She didn't even pay attention until somebody said her name.

"What?" She jumped in her chair, bumping her ankle against the table leg.

"You aren't eating," Tifa told her, softly. "You usually eat much faster than this."

Tifa would know, of course. She was the one who cooked. She watched them all eat, a slightly nervous look on her face. Like she hadn't cooked for anybody she cared about in a while. Like she desperately wanted them to like her cooking. Like she was afraid of what Aerith might feel about being outdone in her own kitchen.

Tifa was looking concerned today, too.

Yuffie shrugged. "Had some weird dreams last night. They're kinda sticking with me, you know?"

The older woman watched her. There was sympathy in those dark eyes, a sorrowful understanding. She was obviously thinking about the invasion of the Heartless. "I see. Dreams that make you lose your appetite?" The _I_ in _I see_ was soft, almost slurred to an 'ah' sound.

"Yeah."

Squall, who had returned to the table a few moments earlier, shook his head again and snickered. "It's probably all the sugar you poured on your plate."

"Shut up, Mister I Cool Coffee Cups With My Bare Hands!"

* * *

  
_Olympus Coliseum: The Underworld_

"You don't seem yourself."

Vincent rolled his eyes to look at Auron. The tiredness hadn't faded. It probably wouldn't fade. Not until he left this place, started eating and drinking and sleeping.

The tournament had pushed his body beyond what it could endure. It wasn't so much punishing him as reacting in pure self-preservation.

"You shouldn't have fought." There was no displeasure in Auron's tone, no disapproval. But Auron didn't need to change his tone for Vincent to know what he was thinking.

They were so very alike. Once, Vincent had thought he had the more fortunate fate. Being prone to mortal weakness, such as the need for sustenance and rest, meant he was able to partake of mortal pleasures. Taste. Scent. Touch. Laughter. The camraderie he'd experienced with AVALANCHE had been true, deep, almost unending. A souce of true joy.

Those memories were what kept him going. He kept the beasts inside him at bay, but he didn't have to concentrate on staying _present_, on staying focused. Madness was a companion to him. Not his enemy.

For him, pain was omnipresent. And Auron was mostly immune to it.

"If it's going to happen, it needs to be soon."

He couldn't live like this forever.

Auron sat next to him, passed him just a bit more bread. Vincent felt peace for a moment, as he ate, and then it was gone. His body hated him. It clamoured for more, for water, for something.

And there was a rising tide of tiredness in his bones. He had to stave off sleep moment by moment, instant by instant. And it fought him back, throttled him inch by inch. But still. He'd promised. Never back to the coffin, never back to the nightmares.

Would there be nightmares, now? Had he not earned peace?

Auron grunted. "How long can you last?"

"A week at the outside," he said. "Probably closer to four days."

"It'll be soon."

Vincent took comfort in that.

* * *

  
_Radiant Garden: Aerith's House_

They hadn't even finished breakfast when the phone rang. Aerith answered it, a polite, gentle-looking smile lingering on her lips while she glared at Squall and his practically smoking coffee cup, which he was holding in both palms. "Good morning! How are you—oh, I see. Yes, of course I'll put her on." She motioned toward Yuffie.

She skipped up to take the phone. "Aerith's Lovenest, Yuffielicious speaking."

Cid's gruff voice cut through any jokes. "Sora just radioed in. He thinks he found somebody who used to live in Radiant Garden. Said he knew Cloud."

Yuffie's brow furrowed. "And you're telling me, an' not Aerith, because... why?"

She didn't dare ask about why he wasn't telling Tifa. If she asked about Tifa, then everybody in the room would know that Cloud had been mentioned. Besides, it was obvious. Tifa had dedicated the better part of a year to finding him, before deciding to return to Radiant Garden on the logic that Cloud would probably return to it eventually.

Cid's voice turned awkward. He sounded tender, in a grumpy old fart sort of way. "Because you're the one that ain't invested in findin' him. Aerith and Tifa _care_ too dang much." Back to the grumpy, gruff ex-smoker. "That's why. I think you and Leon oughta visit the Coliseum, see who this guy is an' what he knows."

Which, okay, made sense. But why was he telling her? Leon was the older one, the one who would obviously be in charge if they went anywhere. Why not just speak directly to Leon?

Before she could ask, Cid added, hastily, "But don't tell Leon who this guy is or what he might know. He'd just tell Aerith, and if Aerith didn't tell the whole dang town, she'd at least get her hopes up, and..."

And we didn't want that. The getting up of hopes, at least as far as Cloud was concerned, was a bad, bad thing. It hurt that they were back to low expectations and never, ever, trusting to hope. Even if it was in only one area. The days when they hadn't even hoped for a Heartless-free place to sleep, the days when they hadn't dreamed of finding Radiant Garden again, those days came back every time she heard, "Don't get your hopes up." Even if it was only about Cloud, those days came right back in all their hideous painful glory.

There were more pressing issues, however. She felt a giant, dinner-plate-sized grin devour her face and knew her eyes were probably brighter than Squall's gunblade when he got in a machismo 'must conceal anxiousness' cycle. "So I'm in charge?"

"Yeah, y'are. Don't let it get to yer head, y'hear? You just make sure ya'all come back in one piece—and that means no tauntin' Leon til he cuts you to ribbons."

"Roger that. At large and in charge, go to Olympus, come back in one piece, don't taunt Squall." Silently, she added, _And don't tell Squall anything. This is going to be the best trip EVER,_ ignoring Squall's obligatory protest that his nm

After Cid hung up, she turned to Squall with the same predatory expression-devouring smile on her face. It looked pasted on, and in a way, it was. "Pack your bags, Squallie-Paullie! We're going to Olympus!"

Squall watched her warily. "Did Cid say why?"

She dropped the grin, forced a less thrilled expression and made shit up on the fly. "All he said was Sora said something about a derelict ship IN the Coliseum."

He set down his coffee cup, which had stopped steaming, and crossed his arms over his chest. His expression screamed scepticism. "And what about that could possibly have convinced him that you should take charge?"

"Because I'm the one that gets to go squeezing into tight, dark, possibly Heartless-infested places. Underground."

Yuffie did not do underground. Anything darker and more enclosed than the hold of a very small Gummiship was simply a Nope Not Going In There You Can't Make Me. This was common knowledge amongst the four of them. Cid could only have convinced her to do it if he'd offered her the leadership role, at least when she wasn't exploring, and probably some sort of reward once she got back.

A understanding and then sympathy flickered across Squall's face before his expression returned to the default, betray-nothing 'prideful.'  
"I... see. All right, we'll—"

"—We'll head out as soon as we pack," Yuffie said, interrupting him with an extra-smooth voice just because she could. "You'll want to bring ethers and hi-potions. I'll get my smallest weapons and the wireless communication stuff from Cid's."

Tifa and Aerith looked at each other. Something apparently passed between them, despite the fact that neither said anything. Simultaneously, they both stood. Simultaneously, they began to bustle toward their own goals, their movements graceful and quick. They had both always been efficient. Especially when they thought something strange was going on. Yuffie remembered that much.

"I'll make you something to eat on the way. And maybe a few lunches for while you're there," Tifa said, hastily clearing the table and somehow not dropping or spilling anything.

Aerith gave her a sympathetic, concerned smile. "Yuffie, I'll pack you a change of clothes or two. You'll want leggings and sleeves, right? Bright colours?"

"Leggings and armsleeves, check, but no on the bright colours," she replied, thinking of the Coliseum's heat. At Aerith's look of surprise, she added, "Not bright. Not even neon. It's gonna hafta be _Day-Glo_! Screw glow-in-the-dark, I want it to blind people in full sunlight!"

Aerith chuckled. It didn't sound as amused as she'd wanted, though. It sounded sad. Like she was saying, _I know all your tricks. You can't hide your fear from me. But you need me to laugh, so I'll laugh._ And she was wrong.

Yuffie inwardly cringed at the fact that she was using her family's concern for her, using their genuine crazy makeshift family love, the love that she wouldn't trade for a life without Heartless, against them.

Whoever was in the Coliseum had better be worth it.

* * *

TBC 28 JANUARY 08 


	4. 4: Modern Day Orpheus

To what purpose, April, do you return again?  
Beauty is not enough.  
You can no longer quiet me with the redness  
Of little leaves opening stickily.  
I know what I know.  
—Edna St Vincent Millay, "Spring"

You that have snarled through the ages, take your answer and go.  
—G. K. Chesterton, "The Pessimist"

* * *

  
_Gummi Space: Olympus Coliseum_

Yuffie had been wriggling in her seat for the past several hours. It had taken them about two days to travel to the Olympus Coliseum, and in that time, she still hadn't figured out exactly what she would say to Squall that would explain the obvious _lack_ of a Gummi ship crash landed in the Coliseum.

They'd be landing in ten minutes, and she still had no idea what she was going to say. How she was going to explain it.

If Cid had been wrong, or if the man Sora mentioned had already left, Squall was going to _kill_ her. Hell, it was very possible that he'd kill her before they even found out.

Squall looked up from the console. He peered over at her, his expression wary. "You're fidgety. Even for you."

She forced a smile. Didn't bother hiding that it was forced. "I'm not exactly looking forward to this, you know."

He looked back down, tapped a few keys. Olympus loomed before them, large in the viewscreen behind his head.

Silence.

"You didn't take as much advantage of being in charge as I expected you to. Is this mission why?"

She forced a shrug. Fought not to run. "Just let it rest."

His gaze sharpened on her, but he said nothing.

For the first time in her life, she wished there was equipment—or something that could be added to equipment—to render the wearer immune to specific magic or elements. Like, say, Ice element. Normally, she dodged spells the same way she dodged physical attacks... But when Squall got it into his head to cast Blizzaga until his head exploded, there was no dodging. No ducking. For all his weapon was unwieldy, for all he relied too much on it, he was by no means a slouch at magic. She was going to end up a Yuffiecicle. And then he was going to cut her to ribbons.

Yuffie hunkered down in her seat and clapped her hands over her mouth. Partly to assuage—or at least contain—her nausea. Partly to keep Squall from seeing the expression on her face.

She really, really was not looking forward to this.

* * *

  
_Olympus Coliseum: Underworld_

In two decades of time in the Underworld, Vincent had learned quite a bit of its workings. For example, Hades had a habit of getting whatever he wanted. If Pain and Panic didn't trip over themselves to provide it, the dank caves would rearrange themselves.

So when he moved from the entrance and into Hades' chambers rather than the cavern where Auron had once fought Cerberus, he wasn't particularly surprised. It didn't even startle him as much as it once had.

"Sorry, Vince, needed ya for a sec," the Lord of the Dead informed him in a casual mutter that didn't sound apologetic at all.

Vincent didn't bother to correct him. He'd been feeling lethargic for over a year, and before that, he'd been so tired he'd felt it in his bones. If he didn't start eating regularly, he would enter a state of hibernation.

Instead, he merely lifted an eyebrow—a monumental effort—and asked, "Yes?"

Hades put his hands to his temples and turned his hair red, flame red, for a moment. Vincent fought not to think of Reno. The impression of the red-headed TURK vanished as Hades rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Look, I got a lot going on. We've got a Gummi ship about to land--a Gummi ship belonging to those pals you like to avoid so much--and Pain and Panic aren't speaking to each other and the Fates are yack yack yacking about your Thread again and, to top it off, Cerberus claims Auron's planning another escape attempt."

Vincent nodded. With Hades, as he once had with Yuffie and Cait Sith, he generally simply listened and waited. Whatever Hades needed him for would surface eventually, most likely in the form of direct address. If the Lord of the Dead wanted to rant, he'd most likley rant at Pain and Panic. Who evidently weren't speaking. That was interesting, though not as interesting as the fact that Hades had been warned about Auron's escape plan.

He refused to react to Hades' hint. He would not worry about it. He would not allow any emotion to leak into his expression.

Hades eyed him for a moment and sighed. "Look, tell Auron that whatever he's planning, it's a bad idea. And I get the feeling that the kids from Radiant Garden are here on hero business. The Fates are saying that your Threads are inching toward each other again."

Vincent blinked in surprise. His lips parted, but for a few moments, he couldn't find any words. His fate was rejoining AVALANCHE's.

"What does their 'hero business' have to do with me?"

It was a question Auron might have asked, he knew.

Hades merely gave him a dubious look. With a sigh, he motioned Vincent closer. "Are you feeling okay? You've been slowing down, slowing way down, for about a decade now."

Just to irritate his captor, because that was one of the few pleasures left to him, Vincent answered with a riddle. "What happens when the immortal body tries to die?"

Hades muttered something about 'one hand clapping' and then grunted something unintelligible. Probably, he was murmuring in Greek. At length, he looked up and said, "Fine, fine, you're dying and slow, I get it. Your Thread's crossing Radiant Garden's again, and now they're sending people here... seems pretty obvious they're connected. They'll probably want to see you."

Inwardly, he recoiled in horror at the very idea. At his _best_, he was a monster. A hideous, dangerous creature. And he hadn't been his best in more than twenty years.

He didn't want AVALANCHE to see him like this. Wasting away to nothing. Skin gone dry and cracked and shriveling to his bones, muscles atrophied until taking a few steps exhausted him, his eyes glazed and his hair thinning. And pale, even paler than he'd been before he'd come here.

No. They'd be terrified. They'd probably think he was in league with Hades.

Auron had really gotten the better end of the deal, he thought bitterly. Un-death had the advantage of stagnation. He was not subject to the foibles of mortality.

"I don't want to see them."

"They're probably gonna come pounding in here, demanding to see the guy in the red cloak. I'll have to at least admit you're here _somewhere_. And then they'll go looking for you."

Vincent bowed his head, thinking frantically. He didn't want them to see him. The last thing he needed was their disgust. After a few moments, he sighed and looked up. "Very well. If they ask for me, then tell them I will only consent to meet them if they cannot see me."

Hades rubbed his hands together. "Ooh, I get it. You wanna stay in the shadows? Pull a Fates?"

He didn't let the barb affect him. Made sure his voice stayed calm, unmoved. "Can it be arranged?"

The Lord of the Dead raised an eyebrow, then allowed, "For a price."

"I'll give Auron your message," he said, quietly. "And I will attempt to delay his plans."

"Good enough. Consider it done."

Vincent nodded and left the chamber. He took only one step and found himself where he'd intended to go: the very entrance of the Underworld's caverns.

* * *

  
_Olympus Coliseum: Coliseum Entrance_

The rebuilt Coliseum was magnificent. Tall, gleaming white marble that swept upwards in simple elegance. The building was utilitarian, but there was an undeniable grace in the pillars that held up a functionally lovely roof.

Yuffie didn't pause to gape. As soon as she felt the sand under her feet, she launched into a forward handspring that turned into a somersault. It was kind of a stalling method and kind of a celebration at being out of the Gummi ship.

The sunlight was hot on her back, the sand warm under her fingers. She never wanted this moment, with Hercules laughing and Squall watching her with something like amusement, to end. Especially since she knew what had to come next.

Oh, hell. In for a pebble, in for… Something else. Something shiny. (Materia? ) A gem! In for a pebble, in for a gem!

"Heya, Herc!" She waved her right arm over her head in a ridiculous span. "Has Sora been training in your Coliseum?"

She tried to ignore the fact that Squall was poking around at the sand and craning his neck to look up at the Coliseum roof. He was going to figure it out soon. He wasn't always the brightest shining lightbulb, thanks to his general depressing demeanour, but he wasn't dumb by any means. A cunning old fox, their Squally Wally. Even ignoring him, she watched him out of the corners of her eyes.

Hercules gave her a blank look. As if he'd never even considered that Sora might want to train with them, as if Squall didn't matter. Then, slowly, he shook his head. "No. There aren't any tournaments, yet. Ares still hasn't given this place his blessing."

Gods. Who needed 'em? Yuffie didn't snort at the blatant silliness of blessing a coliseum. Instead, she turned to look at the cave that led to the Underworld, temporarily losing sight of Squall. She looked back at Hercules and raised an eyebrow.

The immortal hero nodded. "Sora spends most of his time down there."

There was a faint _clink_ behind Hercules. The sound of Squall's belts jingling together as he shifted his position. She looked up and found that all the amusement was gone from his face. He'd crossed his arms over his chest and was leaning his weight slightly backwards. Yuffie's heart sank like a swiftly sinking thing.

"So if he'd met a man in a red cloak, then it'd have been in the Underworld."

Hercules looked behind himself. When he turned back, his expression closed down for a moment, but then turned sympathetic. "What's eating him?"

Might as well be honest with the guy. "He's figuring out I lied to him."

He gave her that kicked-puppy-disappointed-hero look and she wanted to scream. She didn't, though, she simply thanked him for his help and ignored the fact that Squall was moseying in the Pissed Lion Swagger Stride, moving toward her, past her, and going to stand by the Underworld Entrance.

Squall's immediate response, as soon as she was close enough, was to snarl, "What's this about a man in a red cloak? I thought we were here about a Gummi crash. Which, by the way, doesn't seem to exist."

Yuffie spread her hands. "Cid told me not to tell you, but Sora may have found a lead on Cloud."

"And _that's_ why you're in charge." There was an unspoken _Because Cid didn't trust me_ in there somewhere. She could see it in the hurt in his eyes. His expression quickly turned stoic.

"And that's why I lied to you. He didn't want you to know, because you'd tell Aerith--don't give me that look, we both know you would--and Aerith would tell Tifa, and then if the lead didn't pan out..."

"So both of you _knowingly lied to us._"

Yuffie raised her chin. "Yeah."

Squall stared down at her. He wasn't a particularly tall person, but he was taller than she was, and there was something intense in his eyes as he watched her face.

Silence.

At last, he said, "All right. I'll let it slide."

She chose not to respond to the unspoken _This time_.

Hercules shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "Are you going to go and meet him?"

She looked to Squall, who looked back at her. Neither said anything, though Yuffie stuck out her tongue and pulled at the skin beneath her right eye. Eventually, when it was clear that Squall was taking her leadership seriously (and of course he was; he took everything seriously), she said, "Yeah, let's go do that."

* * *

  
_Olympus Coliseum: Underworld_

An indignant teenaged squawk that bespoke of menace, sharp pointed objects, and ninja smoke for whatever obstacle she'd encountered echoed through the innumerable passages of the Underworld.

"What do you mean, we can't see him immediately?!"

Hades spread his hands. "Sorry, kid, but he was real specific on that point. Doesn't want visitors to see him."

"You mean we can't talk to him at all?"

The Lord of the Dead waved his spread hands. "No-no-no-no-no. That's not what I meant. You can talk to him, but you can't _see_ him."

The teen crossed her arms over her chest, trying not to shiver in the Underworld's cold and her habitual lack of clothing. "That doesn't make a whole lot of sense, Lord Corpseface."

Beside her, Squall shifted his grip on his gunblade, changing the position of hips just a fraction. His leather gloves creaked, the leather belts made leathery rustlings. He was slowly moving from Look Pretty Mode to Look Threatening Mode.

Hades ignored Squall thoroughly, giving her his most solemn, skull-faced glare and turning his hair red at her nickname for him. "Look, our pal Vince isn't exactly what you call mentally stable."

Our pal Vince. Vincent... His name was Vincent V-something, and how she knew that she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Part of her wanted to ask, 'Does he have red eyes?' The rest of her wanted to enter in a tournament and let the adrenaline rush push her hatred of this place away.

Squall changed his footing, so he could get maximum thrust into his attack, when he decided to try to cut his way through Hades' bullshit. "So, when can we see him?"

Hades rolled his eyes upward, but then suddenly looked back at her. He steepled his hands. "Actually, now."

"Exactly what did you need to ask me?" The voice trod the line between 'low tenor' and 'high baritone.' There was something aristocratic to it, educated and cultured.

Yuffie and Squall both whirled around, trying to pinpoint the speaker's location. Squall had the gunblade down and ready in an instant, moving it even as he turned. Yuffie's weapon took a little more time to retrieve, but by halfway through her first sweep of the room, the Four-Point was in her right hand and ready.

"Don't bother," Hades said, leaning back on his stone throne and placing his feet on a convenient stalagmite.

Red eyes flashed in the darkness. Yuffie prepared a Thunder spell. Just in case he wasn't friendly. "You won't find me."

"Why don't you want to be seen?" Yuffie asked, at the same time Squall asked, "Who are you?"

"I am Vincent Valentine."

Squall inched toward those red eyes. A pale glitter along his gunblade told her that he was preparing his favourite spell: Blizzaga.

"How do you know Cloud?" Yuffie edged toward the man, her Thunder just barely beginning to show as static electricity in her hair.

"We worked together once." There was something endlessly sad in that voice. He sounded tired and despairing.

Squall asked, "As mercenaries?"

That was how Cloud had been surviving, before he'd come back to them the first time. It would make sense, maybe. Heh. Not dumb by any stretch, not their Squally Paully.

The red eyes moved, as if Vincent were shaking his head. "As heroes."

Squall's voice turned hard, colder than the Blizzaga he so obviously wanted to cast. "Cloud hasn't been a hero in a long time."

"This was longer ago than you think." The voice gave a long, deathrattle sigh. It turned even softer, even sadder. "That was another life. Another world. It's over now."

Yuffie squinted into the darkness, then allowed the gathered magic to dissipate. Whoever this guy was, he wasn't worth fucking with. Kicking people when they were down just wasn't her style, anyway.

But still, for Aerith, for Tifa, she gave it one last shot. "So you can't tell us where he is now?"

"Most likely where he is needed."

Squall took a deliberate step forward, let the Blizzaga witchlights on his gunblade fade away. "Where he's _needed_ is Radiant Garden."

The red eyes disappeared for a moment. As if he'd closed them. But then they reappeared. "I cannot help you. I have not seen him since he returned my cape and gauntlet to me." A pause, a sigh. "Look for Sephiroth. He is most likely trying to destroy him."

"Nothing we didn't already know," Squall muttered.

The eyes flashed brighter, but Vincent said nothing. And then he--well, his eyes--faded away, into the darkness, and then the darkness faded with them.

"Well," Yuffie said. "You think he sat up all night working on how to be really cryptic for us?"

Rather than address the question, Squall turned his dry, wicked sense of humour on her. "I think he could have done without the special effects."

* * *

TBC 23 FEBRUARY 2008 


	5. 5: And Eurydice Behind

Made all day until bell-time  
A woman's figure without fault  
Straight as a young elm  
Straight and tall from his crooked bones  
**That she might stand in the night  
After the locks and chains**  
—Dylan Thomas, "The Hunchback in the Park"

* * *

  
_Radiant Garden: Squall and Aerith's House_

This time, Yuffie dreamed of a city. Red wood and bright green tile. Brass that gleamed, except where it was ancient. Tall, tiered towers. Rickety bridges. Narrow, meandering streets. It was a place of dry, dry heat, where the sun was a hammer and the earth was an anvil. The only solace to be found was in the river that coiled through, rollicking under the bridges and sparkling in the light.

The river whispered things to her in a language she understood, the way every language was comprehensible in dreams. But if she'd had to paraphrase it, she would have failed.

She sat on one of the lowest bridges and let her feet dangle above the water, toes pointed down. She was short enough that she couldn't dip her feet to the surface of the water.

_You'll miss me_, the river said, and suddenly it wasn't a river, it was a giant blue-green snake with shimmering scales, horned and radiant. The colours changed, melting from varied shades of blue to shades of green as it moved, sinuous and inexorable—roiling—as a river.

She agreed.

* * *

  
_Radiant Garden: Merlin's House_

Cid ignored Merlin's sleepy mumbles and snores as he entered data into the computer he'd built himself. Though they still bickered frequently, the two had settled into a comfortable routine. As much as Merlin might complain about his late nights, he didn't _actually_ disturb the old wizard's sleep. And Cid had the feeling that in the coming while, his nights would grow shorter and shorter and sleep would come sooner. Until, at least, he got old enough that it didn't come at all.

Rattling around somewhere in his head was Yuffie's bitterly cheerful exclamation: _Dude didn't know shit_.

The program that kept track of the Highwind, Sora's Gummi Ship—and he hoped to hell it was coincidence that it was named after him; he was paranoid enough that he wasn't sure, and if it wasn't coincidence, well, things would just be getting even weirder—flashed a notification.

Sora had definitely shifted course from the King's castle to Radiant Garden. They'd be getting their answers soon enough. After all, if anybody could tell them about Vincent Valentine, it would be the kid who'd fought beside him. However briefly.

Cid ached for a cigarette in ways he hadn't since the rise of the Heartless, since they'd fled the city. There were pieces of this puzzle that just didn't fit. It was as if 'How does Vincent know Cloud' was a completely different question, utterly unrelated to 'Where the hell _is_ Cloud.' And why he got that feeling, he wasn't sure.

What he really wanted, right this goshdarn minute, was to roll a cigarette between his fingers and wonder why the name Vincent Valentine sounded so familiar.

* * *

_Radiant Garden: Squall and Aerith's House_Thanks to the Heartless, you learned not to sleep too soundly. Apart from Soldiers and the Lance Soldiers, the smaller to medium-sized Heartless were virtually soundless when they moved. In order to stay alive, you had to notice the slightest changes in your surroundings, even if you were asleep.

At least, that was Aerith's excuse for being such a light sleeper. And it was mostly the truth.

In any case, it was partly because of this that Aerith awoke in time to hear Yuffie's muffled sobs.

She rolled out of bed, careful not to pull her own or Tifa's hair in the process—which was harder than it might have sounded, considering that they both had long hair—and quietly padded through the halls. She heard another set of footsteps, just as quiet as hers, and had to bite back a smile.

So, Squall slept as lightly as she did, too.

It brought back memories. Not all of them were unpleasant.

They met at the door to Yuffie's room. She tapped his upper arm and he nodded once. They listened.

The sounds from within were muffled, even more than the distance and the door would have muffled them. Aerith ached inside. The girl she thought of as a little sister didn't seem to realize that they would love her despite her "weakness." And so she refused to show it, refused even to acknowledge that she cried at all.

"Is this because of that mission?" Aerith murmured.

Squall shook his head once. "No."

They exchanged a look. The expression on his face spoke clearly. She remembered how easy it had been to read each other, back before the Nobodies had appeared. They'd been in their prime around the time Sora first showed up.

This night was just dredging up old memories for all of them, she supposed.

Squall retreated back to the living room, his movements still the graceful, predatory pace of a lion. Despite his tiredness. She'd long subdued her envy of his careless grace, found a grace of her own. But she still found him beautiful. There probably wasn't anybody who knew him who didn't.

Aerith took a step forward, knocked gently on the door. "Yuffie? Are you alright?"

The only response was a barely audible sniffle.

She silently forced open the door, a trick she'd known for years, and made her way into the room. As always, it was a haven of organized chaos, everything strewn in patterns that only made sense to Yuffie. As always, it didn't bother her. They'd all long accepted each other's quirks and oddities.

She found the teen in bed, curled up against her pillow. Tear tracks glistened on her cheeks in the dim light.

Without thinking about it, Aerith slipped into bed beside her and curled around the girl who'd been matchmaker, thief, sister, friend. She stroked the soft, short hair; at times finger-combing it, at times simply sliding her hand along it. She hugged Yuffie close, murmuring the comforting nonsense she'd been murmuring for years, and felt herself relax as the shudders slowly ceased and the sniffles became sighs, then silence.

When it was over, she whispered, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Bad dream," Yuffie replied. "Something about a city. And a river. Except it was a talking snake."

"The city or the river?"

"The river. It said—it said—_Oui'mm secc sa_. And I knew what it meant in the dream, but I don't remember." There was a quiet, choked sound, and then Yuffie added in a wet, broken whisper, "I think I've been to that place."

Aerith struggled to find something practical to say. She settled for kissing Yuffie's tearstained cheek and murmuring, "Well, Sora's been a lot of places. Why don't you ask him about it the next time you see him?"

In the darkness, Yuffie nodded.

She placed a kiss to the younger woman's forehead and retreated from the room, already mulling over the girl's words. _Oui'mm secc sa._ What did it mean? Was this just a dream, or was something else going on?

For the first time since they'd returned to Hollow Bastion, once more Radiant Garden, Aerith missed Belle. Belle had understood all the problems that plagued her. They'd had an understanding, she and Belle.

* * *

_Radiant Garden: Aerith's House_Yuffie stood in the shower and let the water roll over her, mulling over the words she'd told Aerith. Mulling over that roiling, rollicking serpent in the city.

Its scales had been wet. Slick with saltwater. Slick like the blue-green tile she was currently standing on.

She put a hand to the wall of the shower, brushing her fingers along the tile.

_E ys ouin Fydankut._Yuffie leaned her head against the tile, felt its lukewarm wetness seep onto her forehead, and let herself cry again.

_Oui'mm secc sa. E ys ouin Fydankut._ What did it mean? Why was she hearing it? Why did it make her ache for—that place, with the red wood and the green-roofed towers?

She shook her head and pushed everything else aside. Forced herself to shower, towel herself off. Get dressed.

She entered the kitchen to find Sora sitting at the table—in her spot, no less, she was so going to kick his skinny ass—and chowing down on Tifa's Breakfast of Doom. She fixed herself a plate, naturally full of all the good things in life, perhaps minus the donuts, and sat down next to him.

Tifa smiled at her and put a mug of hot cocoa in front of her plate. "How did you sleep?"

Yuffie looked up and smiled so hard she wound up squinting. She flashed a thumbs-up. "Slept great!"

Tifa's lips pursed for a moment. Her expression said, quite clearly, _That's not what Aerith told me._Yuffie grinned and ignored Tifa's expression. "Have you seen Squall?"

Tifa shook her head, her voice mild. "Not since this morning. You slept pretty late, you know." _Since_ almost had two syllables, the _r_ in _morning_ was almost completely absent.

Sora drained a glass of orange juice in one go. He set it down just in time to ask, "How come you're always looking for Squall?"

"Because he has permanent five o'clock shadow and I like making fun of it," she replied, automatically giving him a nonsense answer.

They both knew it was a nonsense answer. Hell, everyone in the room knew it. They all stayed quiet for a moment.

After a minute, Sora grinned brightly. "Aerith said you had something to ask me?"

_No_, Yuffie choked back and then thought, wondering what the hell Aerith was talking about. In her mind, sunlight sparkled on green roofs and she gasped. "Yeah, yeah, I did, actually! Have you ever been to a place with, like, tiered towers and green-tiled roofs?"

At the prospect of being useful, Sora's eyes lit up. "And a lot of red paint and sliding paper doors? Yeah, I have! That's the Land of Dragons!"

The Land of Dragons. A speaking serpent that flowed like a river through a city. _E ys ouin Fydankut. Oui'mm secc sa._ That had to be it! The Land of Dragons! She was remembering that place!

She grinned back at him. "How can I get there?"

"Gummi ship. It's actually not too far from the Coliseum." He grinned. "Want me to take you there?"

_It might be best if I went on my own_, she wanted to say, but then she realized that no, that wouldn't be best. How could she pilot a Gummi ship if she was in this condition from just a week's worth of bad dreams? She might need to stay alone, but she couldn't _leave_ alone.

"In a couple of days, maybe? I probably should settle stuff here first."

Like tell Rikku she'd be going. That'd be loads and loads of fun, she was sure. Rikku could get emotional at the best of times. Finding out that her Way Totally Bestest Friend Ever was leaving for a while and could be gone for up to a month? No way. She'd be all over tears.

And damned if Yuffie probably wouldn't cry along with her.

* * *

_Radiant Garden: Merlin's House_"Sorry I'm late, everybody," Yuffie said as she ducked in the door. "I was talking to Sora."

Squall, Cid, Aerith, and Merlin were seated at the round stone table. They turned as one to look at her. Merlin with his habitual grumpy old man 'I hate meetings oh thank god you'll make them get on with it' look, Cid with a slightly startled expression on his face, Aerith and Squall with their own renditions of concern.

"Yeah?" Cid rasped. "And what'd he have to say?"

Yuffie sat down and wriggled her brows at the tea set. Merlin gave her a conspiratory look, then made the teaset dance in time with her brow wrigglings. She whistled a nameless tune and the teaset finally got around to pouring her a drink. She accepted the cup and took a sip.

"The Land of Dragons. That's the place I'm remembering."

Cid's look turned confused. He took a heavy swallow of his own tea, then stared into the dregs as if he could read the future with them. "But you've never been there. Hell, _I've_ never been there, and I've bounced around all over this da—dang 'verse."

She shrugged. "So I'm remembering places I've never been. Weirder things have happened."

Squall slapped a palm on the table. Dishes jumped. His own teacup spilled, and Aerith squealed a little as cold tea poured into her lap. "How can you be so blasé about this?"

"Because if I let myself panic, I'll have a total freakout and be all like _I have a kraaaaken from the seeeea inside my head_ and _Hooooofuck I'm remembering places I've never been_ and let me tell you, freakouts are not fun!"

Merlin waved a hand and the spilled tea vanished. Sugar cubes stumbled over themselves to go back into their tin. Squall's teacup floated its way toward the teapot, accepting a stream of steaming tea. "Calm down, everyone. Yuffie, I find your comment about something else living inside your head very interesting. Do you believe that you aren't alone in your mind?"

Yuffie blinked. His voice had been mild, but there was something intense in the way he looked at her. As if he was trying to pretend that he wasn't interested, but he really was. Very interested. Like, 'Cid encountering a new kind of engine' sort of interested.

"Uh, do you know what _E ys ouin Fydankut_ means? 'Cos I sure don't, and it's been circling around inside my head since I took a shower this morning."

Merlin stared at her. He shook his head, slowly. "No. But it does sound like something you might hear in the Land of Dragons. I think you should go."

Yuffie relaxed. "Good, 'cos I do too."

Squall sat up and treated the entire table to his glare. "Well, I don't. We don't know that they'll welcome her. She could be in danger!"

At the sight of that glare, something in Yuffie ached. She had to fight to keep her eyes dry. In her head, something murmured, _Ajanodrehk femm dinh uid vun dra pacd._ It wasn't her voice, she realized. That wasn't what her thoughts sounded like. It was more masculine, older.

"So I won't go alone!" Yuffie scowled at him and ignored the voice in her head.

"But none of us have the time to go with you. Believe it or not, Yuffie, we _are_ trying to reconstruct this town!"

Yuffie stood up and glared. "I have to go! I'm getting to the point where I can't sleep, Squall. I'm no good to anybody when I'm here." She looked over to Aerith, pleading. "I might find some info on Cloud if I go."

Aerith looked down, pain clear on her face. She looked at her hands, murmuring, "That wasn't fair, Yuffie."

"It's true! The Land of Dragons isn't far from the Coliseum. If nothing else, I might be able to get some more out of Vincent."

Aerith looked up, confused. "Who's Vincent?"

Silence.

Squall looked to Cid. "You mean you didn't tell her?"

Cid stared back at Squall, a horrified expression on his face. "Well, you live with her... I thought _you_ would."

Oh god. Aerith didn't know. Yuffie sat down, took both of Aerith's hands in hers. "Aerith, there wasn't any Gummi ship crash in the Coliseum. Sora told us somebody named Vincent in a red cloak had mentioned knowing Cloud. We went there to see what he knew."

Aerith stared at her with a beautifully confused expression on her face. She looked first to Squall—she always looked to Squall first—and then to Cid. There was something crestfallen in her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Cid looked down, clearly uncomfortable. He never had been good at this sort of discussion. "Well, at first, we didn't want to get your hopes up. And then Vincent told 'em a whole lot a nothin'. I figured Leon'd be the best one to tell ya."

Aerith looked back to Squall.

Squall shifted in his seat, looked at the teacup loosely gripped in one hand. It had stopped steaming. "I didn't know what to say. I thought Cid had told you."

"That's how you knew Yuffie wasn't having nightmares about the mission," she said, voice numb. "You knew there wasn't any mission. How could you hide that from me?"

Squall spread his hands. "How I knew didn't seem relevant at the time."

Merlin cleared his throat. "Ahem. Perhaps we should leave the domestic squabbles for later? We _are_ here to discuss the reconstruction, after all."

Yuffie thought for a moment. It was a thought she wanted to save for later, but it demanded to be heard. "I could take Rikku with me!"

Squall and Cid both turned to stare at her. Exactly what they thought of that was clear: Yuffie and Rikku in one place spelled disaster. However, the natural havoc they created just by being around each other could protect them...

Cid at last rasped, "All right. But you get Sora to drop you there, got it? I don't want you flyin', the condition you're in."

The issue settled--_Fro yna oui cu rybbo?_\--Yuffie sat back down and tried to contain the happiness. This was totally perfect! She'd have so much fun! Except for the dreams, anyway.

And the voice in her head. The one that was growing clearer and clearer.

* * *

_Radiant Garden: The Castle Gate_As usual, the three fairies were floating in midair, their conversation a quiet buzz. It was Paine who saw her first, and, thus, Paine who tapped Rikku and pointed.

"Yuffie!"

There was an immediate blur of blonde hair, wings, and suddenly Yuffie was stumbling backward, her arms full of skin and feathers and a teenager's weight. She gasped for breath and tried not to fall over.

"Been a while," Paine told her, flitting over much more sedately than Rikku had.

Yuna, on the other hand, was dancing toward her in graceful loops. She made flight look like an art, while for Paine, it was just a form of transportation. And for Rikku, it was like breathing--she made it look so effortless. Flight was what Rikku _was_.

Rikku squeezed her tight and swung one of her feet up until she was balancing on one leg, with her other knee bent. "Yeah! We need your help! We're looking for our treasure!"

Yuffie frowned. "I'd love to treasure-hunt with you guys, but I have to go somewhere."

All three figures gave her a look of horror. Well, except for Paine, but Paine had settled into her 'not happy' expression, which might well have meant horror.

"But you can't go!" Yuna drooped in the air, her wings bending earthward. "We need your help!"

An idea struck. Yuffie mentally closed her eyes and crossed her fingers for luck. "Hey, wait a minute! You guys are fairies! Is there some kind of spell on me?"

All three of them stared her up and down. Rikku popped back into fairy form and watched her for several moments. None of them said a word.

"Not _on_ you," Yuna said at last, frowning in concentration, "more like inside you."

Oh, good. Well, at least the voice in her head wasn't just her going crazy.

"I have to find out what that spell is. And I have to get it out. That's where I'm going."

The three fairies nodded.

"Uh, I'm not supposed to go alone..."

Paie nodded again and intoned, "And you want Rikku to go with you."

"How do you _do_ that?" Yuffie asked.

Paine shrugged and said nothing. That was classic Paine for you.

Yuffie turned to Rikku. "So, do you want to come?"

* * *

_Radiant Garden: Squall and Aerith's House_"Are you sure?" Sora bit his lip. "I mean, both of you guys alone?"

There was an unspoken _On a strange world that you don't know a lot about?_ that everyone concerned ignored. He was obviously afraid for what might happen to his Gummmi ship. Hmph. It wasn't like they were going to destroy it. Sure, chaos followed them aroud like a lovestruck puppy, but they weren't destructive.

"I have to know, Sora. I'm dreaming about some place that I've never seen. I need to know why."

Sora stared into her eyes. Suddenly, she was reminded of Cloud. And suddenly she knew why Aerith avoided him and why Tifa spent so much time around him.

"One more thing." Squall stood. From the way he'd folded his arms across his chest, she knew he was still upset. "What did you think of Vincent?"

Sora thought to himself, then shrugged. "He didn't seem like a bad guy. Why?"

Riku, who sat beside him, folded his arms across his chest and smirked. "Why, are you worried about him being just a Gummi hop away from Yuffie?"

Yuffie glared and made a threatening gesture with her fists. "I am going to make you eat that stupid beanie, girlface."

Squall shook his head. When he spoke, his tone was dry, "He wasn't the person you cracked him up to be."

Riku gave Sora a dubius look. Sora scratched his head.

Yuffie took matters into her own hands. She pulled into a cartwheel, then launched herself into a series of back handsprings, stopping right by the arm of Sora's chair. "Vince was kinda way unhelpful for us, kiddo. Like, 'stayed up all night coming up with cryptic answers' kind of unhelpful."

Sora stared. Whether that had anything to do with the acrobatics or with the fact that Vincent had been unhelpful, Yuffie neither knew nor cared.

"Vincent was pretty nice to me," he said, confusion in his voice. "I mean, he's kind of quiet, but..."

Squall and Yuffie exchanged a look.

"Quiet. Right." Squall's voice had become painfully dry. "He gave us exactly what would make us go away."

"Which made us kind of suspicious," Yuffie added. "And we wouldn't exactly say 'no' to an opportunity to explore the Caverns with you and him. Well, I wouldn't. I think Squall just wants to throttle him."

Squall protested, but Yuffie didn't exactly care what he said at this point. She wanted to make damn sure she was going to the Land of Dragons.

"Anyway, you guys'll take me?"

Sora and Riku looked at each other again. And then Sora stood, with his habitual big cheesy smile, stuck out his hand, and said, "Of course!"

Yuffie idly patted Rikku, who had been napping on her shoulder, and smiled.

There was only one thing left to say, then.

"When do we leave?"

* * *

TBC 26 FEBRUARY 2008

Notes: Okay, changed the Japanese to Al Bhed, because my knowledge of Japanese is, seriously, minimal. I can form simple sentences and that's it, and I don't really trust them. NO, I am not connecting Al Bhed and Wutai. This is simple lazyness. (And possibly a Faith &amp; Feather throwback).

Yet again, the point of including the other personality's speech in another language is that Yuffie doesn't understand it.


	6. 6: If You Forget Me, Think

Come back to me, Gongyla, here tonight,  
You, my rose, with your Lydian lyre.  
There hovers forever around you delight:  
A beauty desired.  
—Sappho, "Please"

Walls black like black waters when they are heavy and seem to belong to other seas  
—Mark Z. Danielewski, _House of Leaves_

* * *

_Beast's Castle: The Main Hall_

Vincent stared into the deepest shadows in the castle's gloom and found himself more nervous than he'd been since he applied for a job with the Turks. He was grateful he couldn't feel the cold black stone beneath his feet—the cold of the Underworld had seeped in, had always seeped in eventually, despite the cloak and the boots—and even more grateful at the warm welcome he'd received. Even if it had been by supposedly inanimate objects.

Auron stood next to him, still as stone and just as quiet. They'd agreed that Vincent would do most of the talking. In the short time they'd known each other, Vincent had learned quite well that Auron wouldn't know what tact was if it cleared its throat at him repeatedly. But Vincent wondered if Auron had to be so not-there. Maybe it was unintentional; Vincent knew well that nobody could be as still as the dead.

"Please, monsieurs, into the parlour!" Said a living candlestick, its impossible eyes shooting a glare at a mantel clock. "The Master will be with you in just a few moments!"

The mantle clock waddled toward the candlestick and glowered, its clock face far too expressive. "What that one needs, Lumiere, is food and rest! The man is skin and bones! Quite frankly, an audience with the Master would overtax him!"

Vincent took the argument into his own hands and subtly shifted a leg, tapping the copper side of his boot against the floor to emphasize the fact that he _could_, if necessary, use his shoes as weapons. "A meal and a bed are all we could ask for. We can pay, if necessary."

Both the candelabra and the clock turned and stared at him in horror, cartoonish mouths dropping open in horror. They gasped in unison, apparently aghast at the mere idea.

"Pay?" Lumiere breathed. "For hospitality?"

He was too damn tired for this. "I believe the term is _bed and breakfast._"

Auron emanated silent amusement. Vincent elected not to respond. The other man wasn't baiting him and, so far, they'd encountered no mishaps. Although, judging by the responses of their welcoming committee, he'd made a small mistake.

The clock stamped a foot and put its 'hands' on its 'hips.' "The Master's castle is no bed and breakfast! We're civilized folk in this manor!" It subsided into a Junon-accented grumble of "My word" and then something unintelligible.

And then he was ushered into the parlor, where a yapping footstool tried to paw him into an overstuffed chair by the fire. Vincent allowed it and allowed a tiny smirk as Auron glared at the little creature. But Auron sat, and Vincent sat, and within moments, tables and crockery made their way into the room, laden with plates.

Hot tea—Junon tea, not Wutaian tea—and mutton, bread, fruit, salads. Soups, a platter of fish. Just looking at it was a torment. The scent was both hellish and heavenly.

He stared at the empty plate before him and the platters scattered in front of his chair and knew he could easily make himself sick. He also knew he probably wouldn't regret a moment of it.

* * *

  
_Gummi Space: The Land of Dragons_

The voice hadn't gone silent; it was still a rush of thoughts and words she didn't understand. Every now and then, she would see images. _Nat cduha_, it would say, and then she would see a round red stone, cupped in someone's palm.

She wanted to scream for the world to shut up, but the problem wasn't the world; the problem was her own crazy brain and the whatever-it-was living inside it.

Yuffie stared at her fingers and ignored the way Rikku was flitting around the ship, much to the annoyance of Riku. Sora was more laid back about it. Then again, Sora was more laid back than Riku about most things.

Rikku did a loop, briefly going upside down because of it, and asked, "Sooo, when do we land?"

"As soon as we decide on a landing point and you change yourself to human size," Riku snapped.

His snappishness had been overlooked on the day and a half trip it had taken to get here. Yuffie'd spent most of her time asleep, dreaming about the Land of Dragons again. And Rikku was exuberant but not stupid. She wasn't going to hold grudges over petty things when she was going to leave soon, anyway.

But they had no reason to let it slide anymore. Why not go out with a bang, anyway?

Yuffie stood silently, made her way toward Riku. Rikku bee-lined above her, making straight toward the beanie-wearing teen. They arrived simultaneously. Riku didn't look up from the computer console in front of him.

With a pinch of her fingers and a jerk of her elbow, she ganked the skull-fitting cap he wore and then tossed it upward. Rikku caught it unerringly and flew to the other side of the room.

Riku turned immediately, just in time for Yuffie to put one finger to her lower lip and the other fist on her hip. He scowled at her.

"Give it back."

"Promise not to be an asshat for the next seven days." She paused. "And get over Mulan. It'd never work out."

He stared, incredulous. Eyebrows rose. His mouth fell open. "What?"

"You mean, 'How do I know,' and the answer is, I'm a ninja. I know everything."

Sora grinned and leaned back in his chair. "She lives with Aerith and Tifa. Like, two of the three gossip queens of the universe."

Yuffie shook her head and snickered. "Pretty much all the women around who aren't me are gossip queens. Isn't that right, Rikku?"

Rikku shrugged and accidentally dropped a few inches in the air. "Paine doesn't gossip! And Lu—uh, Louey doesn't!"

Considering the way Sora and Riku were both teenaged-boy-snickering at Rikku's probably accidental insinuation about Louey's masculinity, Yuffie decided not to say anything on the matter.

But she filed the syllable 'Lu' away in her head, right next to 'they worked with Maleficent'.

Then she shrugged and held out a cupped palm. Rikku looked left and right, then darted toward it, landing in the very center of her outstretched hand. The fairy kicked her legs in the air and clung tightly to the beanie.

"Promise us!" Rikku winked.

Riku rolled his eyes—Yuffie pretended she hadn't seen that; ass-kickings could totally come later—and grumbled that he promised. Rikku dropped the hat on Riku's head and then leapt from Yuffie's hand, fluttering to the floor, just a few fairy paces away.

A faint glitter in the air, a popping sound, and suddenly Rikku was almost exactly as tall as Yuffie was. The wings faded to a mere golden outline on the nearly-bare skin of her back.

Riku stared, eyes wide open. Yuffie didn't blame him. He was a male teenager, splitting his brains between two places, and Rikku in human size went from "adorable" to "adorably sexy." Just how beautiful she was became a lot more apparent when her face wasn't the size of somebody's thumb.

Rikku tilted a hip and winked. "So, let's decide on a landing place!"

* * *

  
_The Land of Dragons: Imperial Palace, Throne Room _

Yuffie bowed to the Emperor, her head almost but not quite brushing the floor. She was flexible enough that it wasn't exactly difficult. She chanced a glance up. The Emperor sat in his throne and said nothing, his hand idly stroking his long beard.

At least the place was full of red and gold and green. The colours and the styles all seemed, if not right, then at least close.

"I thank you, Sora, for bringing such a puzzle to our attention." The Emperor bowed his head. "The Empire will be glad to host such a pair as this in our halls."

Yuffie knew a dismissal when she heard one, and so did the voice inside her head. Evidently, it understood whatever she understood, even if they couldn't understand each other. _Fryd oui ghuf, E ghuf._, the voice in her head murmured and she wished she could glare at herself.

Sora and Riku bowed clumsily and left, turning their backs. Something inside Yuffie knew that was a bad idea, that it was rude. The voice in her head growled its displeasure, but then it went silent again as she turned to face the Emperor.

The Emperor made eye contact. They stared at each other for several long, silent moments while Rikku itched where her wings had been and Mulan and the Captain shifted on their feet. They stared long enough to make themselves and each other and everyone else uncomfortable.

"Child, do you know you have a dragon inside you?"

She shrugged. "I kind of figured it'd be that or something like it. How do I get it out?"

The Emperor stared at her for several long moments and then sighed. "I do not know. Most of us have lost the ability to speak with the dragons. What is it, exactly, that you seek here? Was that knowledge what you sought?"

Yuffie looked at Rikku. The fairy winked a spiral eye. It was a gesture she hadn't known she'd appreciate, but she did.

"I've been having weird dreams lately. A lot of them are about a city that looks kind of like your palace. Full of… pagodas and bridges. Everything painted red and lots of shining green tile." She stopped. "It was in a dream that I first started hearing this voice in my head. At first, it was a river that was talking to me, and then it became… a dragon, I guess. And ever since…" She spread her hands.

The Emperor inclined his head. "There are many such cities within the Empire, child. Do you know this place's name?"

Yuffie closed her eyes. She willed her insides to become still water, an unmoving, placid pond. Clean and pure, just waiting.

The dragon—if it was a dragon—responded swiftly. _Wutai._ Pagodas and that river swam through her head again and suddenly, behind her closed eyelids, she was looking down at a city full of white lights. The full moon limned the tallest pagoda against the night sky. The stars were just as bright as the city lights; it was like looking at an ocean spangled full of glittering diamonds. _Wutai! Wutai ec so pamujat!_

"Wutai," she said. The word felt strange on her tongue. Familiar, and yet not.

Mulan and the Emperor exchanged a glance. The Captain's face went a little tight.

Yuffie narrowed her eyes a fraction. "Okay, am I the butt of a joke, or what?"

"I have never heard of that city. However, there are many cities in the Empire, so it may mean nothing."

But Mulan and the Captain hadn't heard of it either. That was plain on their faces. Yuffie felt her heart sink.

"I'm remembering a place that doesn't exist?"

Cid was going to kill her. They'd wasted airship fuel and she'd caused—and felt—a hell of a lot of heartache because of these dreams. Something about them had to be real.

_Ed femm ymm pa famm_, the voice in her head murmured. _Tu hud vayn. E ys rana._

After a few silent exchanged looks, the Emperor made a graceful gesture with his hand. "The Empire is quite a large place. I shall arrange a consultation for you and my map masters tomorrow. In the meantime, please feel free to look through the library." He gave her the tiniest hint of a wry smile. "I would hate to frustrate the will of a dragon."

Rikku looked up, took a tiny step forward. "Um, what if we want to go to sleep before searching the library and stuff? And maybe take a bath?"

"That will be arranged." The Emperor gave them his benevolent, meaningless smile and then looked to Mulan. "Mulan, if you would?"

Mulan bowed and stepped toward them. "Of course, my lord. Rikku, Yuffie, right this way."

* * *

  
_Beast's Castle: The Library_

Belle stared at the spines of the books in front of her. There were too many of them to read them all, even in a lifetime, but she was determined to try. And she maybe was determined to ignore the older man with the claw who was curled in a window seat next to a basket of fresh-baked meat pastries, avidly reading _Arabian Nights_. Then again, who could blame her? He wasn't exactly the easiest person to talk to, even if he was easy on the eyes.

She picked up a book and settled into a comfortable armchair to read. But the book just couldn't hold her attention. Every so often, she found herself looking over the pages at their longer-haired guest. He was much friendlier than the other one, who spent most of his time secluded in the guest room they'd provided for him. This one came down for meals and ate with rigidly controlled vigour.

He looked up from his book, made eye contact. She fought back a shiver as those red eyes pierced her and he asked, in a perfectly pleasant tone, "Is something the matter?"

There was something not right about him. It felt like she was adjusting to Beast all over again. But with him, that sense of _predator_, of _monster_, rang even truer, which was ridiculous, because the Beast was tall and strong and had jaws that could snap bones. And this man was tall and fine-boned and—seemed dangerous.

"No, nothing's wrong," she told him.

He raised an eyebrow and went back to his book, idly tearing open a pastry, eating neatly.

Belle wished Aerith could come to stay with them for a while. Aerith knew how to deal with people who'd obviously undergone great trauma.

* * *

  
_The Land of Dragons: The Baths_

Yuffie stared into the steaming water before sinking into it. There was something familiar about this, too, though Yuffie was fairly sure she'd never taken a bath with anybody else before. She probably should have been awkward, but Rikku'd poofed into her room and bathroom enough times over the years they'd known each other—and in the months since their return to Radiant Garden—that it didn't feel awkward at all.

The water was hot against her skin and she closed her eyes, relaxing. It felt so good to be mostly submerged in water. She leaned her head back against the edge of the bath and sighed.

_E ryja fyhdat drec_, the dragon murmured inside her head. She ignored it as Rikku lowered herself into the water beside her.

"This feels really nice," Rikku sighed and gathered her long hair up on the back of her head.

Yuffie cupped water in her hands and stared at it. A still, calm pool of water. Her fingers trembled a little. She closed her eyes.

Darkness. Running. Pain. Fallen bodies; the faces of people she loved. A man in a moogle cap with a goatee. _You're not dying, Reeve, it just hurts like a bitch._ A blond with amazingly blue eyes and thick, thick stubble. _That's m' girl, thief 'n a liar._ And then the man with the red eyes and the red cloak, his arms wrapped around her. _Then don't._ The last trembling thoughts before a deep, long sleep: _I never wanted those to be my last words!_

She sobbed. The images and words didn't make any sense. But they did, in a strange way. They were memories and they were hers. They had just never happened.

"Yuffie?" Rikku asked her, one arm settling along her shoulder. "Yuffie, are you okay?"

Yuffie shook her head. "I don't think so. I don't understand why it's showing this to me."

_E ys hud dra lyica uv ouin byeh_, the voice inside her snapped. It was angry, she could tell. _Cissuh sa!_

Whatever the hell that meant.

Rikku pulled her close and the let out a gasp. "Yuffie! Yuffie, look!"

She opened her eyes and felt her mouth fall open. The water around them was moving. It was like it had formed some sort of tide, except that was impossible. But there it was: the water was pushing and pulling, lapping against the edges of the bath and then it was solidifying, actively taking the shape of a long, scaled serpent. The water-serpent coiled through the baths, and rubbed its side against her ribs. It raised its head, opened its mouth.

_Cissuh sa! E ys Leviathan, ouin Fydankut! Cissuh sa!_

She heard it clearly, just as clearly as she heard the sound of water roaring throughout the room.

"Leviathan," she whispered. "Leviathan!"

The dragon closed his mouth, rested his head atop hers, and then let go. Water splashed directly downwards, soaking her on its way back to the tub.

* * *

  
_Beast's Castle: East Hall_

Vincent forced open the door to Auron's room with a trick he'd learned amongst the Turks. Yuffie had refined the trick for him. He recalled his utter surprise at that, then forced it away as he stepped inside.

"Out," Auron snarled. He was seated crosslegged against a far wall.

Vincent crossed his arms over his chest and refused to move. "Something is wrong."

Belle and the Beast were asking questions, more and more pointed. But that wasn't what bothered him; they had a Gummi ship, even if it had been obtained somewhat illegally. They could always go somewhere else. But this seclusion was unlike Auron. He was worried about the undead man. Silence and grim expressions were normal. They were alike in that. But that snarl. It hadn't sounded like the man he'd begun to call 'friend' at all.

He'd ignored the reclusive behaviour long enough. It was time to question.

Auron stood up, glared at him."It's not safe! I'm not--safe--yet."

Vincent narrowed his eyes and raised a single eyebrow. He'd heard nothing of this and it worried him almost more than the seclusion.

Pointed silence. They glared at each other, neither giving ground, neither pressing forward. But Vincent had spent longer awake, dealing with humanity and people unresponsive to the force of his glare. Auron, who had only been alive a few months, didn't stand a chance. Not against a true immortal.

It was Auron who looked away. "My promises are all that are keeping me human."

Vincent looked away after that statement. So, he and Auron were more alike than he'd thought. Except that he'd long come to terms with his constant struggle. Though his burden had been eased when he'd destroyed Chaos and Omega, Galian was still a constant presence, though much quieter since the end of the world. Then again, it wasn't as if the Underworld had much that would spark the demon's interest. It preferred fresh blood and full moons, meat and pack members to the drifting souls that wafted through the Caverns.

He knew what it was to struggle with the darker aspects of one's nature. What it was to struggle to keep one's hatred and pain contained.

"Take as much time as you need. I'll explain." Somehow.

More silence.

Vincent put one hand on his hip--and thought of Yuffie, then forced himself to think of the matter at hand, because thinking of her hurt too much--and asked,"What else?"

Auron looked over at him. "If your... Cloud and Yuffie are alive, then there's a chance that Yuna and Tidus..."

"There's a chance." He paused. "Are you afraid of harming them?"

Auron shook his head. "I'd never hurt them. They're all that's keeping me... here."

Vincent nodded. Living friends were a fierce draw to the more lively inhabitants of the Underworld. The undead and immortal could love, and even loved fiecely. Love was often all they had. It would be almost impossible to turn them against their loyalties. Galian and Chaos, in all their hatred and battle lust, had never once truly harmed a member of AVALANCHE (though Chaos had frequently come close; he'd seemed to take a perverse delight in teetering on line that could decide Vincent's sanity).

"We can search for them, if you like."

Auron looked up. His lips curved into something that was very nearly a genuine smile before becoming a smirk. "Meddling, Vincent?"

"Call it frienship," Vincent replied.

More silence. This silence was almost awkward. Vincent began to edge toward the door.

Auron looked up again and asked, "What will you tell them?"

With a smirk, he said, "I'll tell them you're on a religious fast and have been meditating."

From what he knew of Auron's past, it could almost be true.

* * *

  
_The Land of Dragons: Hall of Maps_

The chief cartographer in the Empire rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He had thick eyebrows and a thick grey beard and moustache. He reminded Yuffie of someone, but she wasn't sure who.

"Wutai?" He murmured to himself. "I believe that's the name of a mountain. But I can't recall if it had a town at its base or not."

"And what about a river? A river that led to the ocean. It's inland, but not very far, I don't think. Maybe ten miles."

The cartographer looked narrowly at her, then shook his head. "No. Mount Wutai is not near the sea, little lady. It's at least twice your figure inland."

Yuffie creased her brow and closed her eyes. That didn't sound right. She'd been able to smell the sea in her latest dreams. The ocean's dull roar had been her heartbeat, had been Leviathan's heartbeat too.

A warm hand grabbed onto hers. Fingers entwined with hers, squeezed gently. She opened her eyes to see Rikku give her a hopeful smile. The fairy gently swung their joined hands.

"Don't worry. We'll figure this out. Fairies don't give out unsolvable riddles. I can't see why dragons would either."

Yuffie nodded.

The cartographer narrowed his eyes, but then bustled away to a row of cubby holes filled with rolled-up scrolls. He hummed to himself, then withdrew a scroll, apparently at random. He then moved over to a table and unfurled the bamboo parchment, pointing.

"This is Mount Wutai. The most recent census does not record any village at the base of the mountain, as you can see. I may be wrong, but I'd place no wagers on Mount Wutai ever having a village at its base."

Yuffie looked at the mountain on the map. She wasn't an expert cartographer, but distance between this Mount Wutai and the sea was too great. The scent of the ocean would never carry that far. And there wasn't a river that was as full of meanders and bends as the one that was in her dreams.

"This doesn't make any sense!" She let out an exasperated gasp. "Damn it, I'm sure he's the dragon of a river that runs through a city. And he calls it Wutai."

The cartographer thought a moment. "It may be that _Wutai_ is a name the dragon applied to a place, and not necessarily the place's name. One of my apprentices is in the process of mapping where dragons can be found. Shall I send for him?"

Yuffie looked to Rikku, who grinned impishly and squeezed her hand again.

"If it's not, like, a deathly inconvenience," she told him.

The cartographer gave her a rare smile and turned over his shoulder. "Han!" He didn't exactly shout, but he might as well have, the way the other cartographers fell silent at his call.

A shy-seeming twentysomething who looked uncomfortable in his clothes stepped forward. Tendrils of long hair had fallen into his face. "Yes, Master Shu?"

"These ladies have asked to see your dragon project," the master cartographer indicated them.

Han bowed immediately. "I would be honoured to show them, Master Shu. Shall I bring the maps?"

Master Shu said nothing, simply stared at the other man. After a beat of silence, Han bowed again, tripped over himself to say he'd bring the maps at once, and rushed away in an ungainly flutter of fabric.

"Boys," Rikku murmured, just loud enough for Yuffie to hear. A pause, and then Rikku whispered, "When can I go flying again?"

Yuffie leaned over and whispered back, "As soon as we get away from all the bearded people."

Rikku giggled. She recovered just in time for Shu to reappear heaped in scrolls. He spread them across the table, where Master Shu had spread his map, and pointed.

"As you can see, the project is far from complete. However, I do have the demesnes of most of the major dragons depicted."

Yuffie nodded and inspected the map. However, the symbols made no sense, though they looked familiar. The dragon in her head recognized them, but made no move to read them. Which was irritating, but then again, she'd probably have still been irritated with the jerk even if he was talking to her in languages she could understand. Sharing roomspace, she could deal with. Sharing headspace? Not so easy.

"So, uh, what about river dragons?"

Han looked over at her. Yuffie realized that his face was more lined, more mature, than just 'early twenties.' "This is a land where rivers and streams are plentiful, my lady. I listed about eighteen river dragons, six of them major, but there are most likely many, many more."

"Okay, then do you know of one called Leviathan or Wutai?"

The apprentice pursed his lips and thought. As his master had, he rubbed a thumb on his chin, then shook his head. "I have never heard of a dragon named either of those things. But isn't Wutai a mountain?"

"Back to square one," Rikku said, winking.

"Back to the _library_," Yuffie replied with a groan.

* * *

  
_The Imperial Palace: Library_

Yuffie stared at the heap of scrolls piled before her. She'd figured the Land of Dragons would have a lot of info on them, but the scrolls were piled up so high she couldn't see over them! How much dragon lore did they _have_?

And then she hit back upon the problem that had driven her out of the library in the first place.

"Uh, how am I supposed to read this, anyway?"

Rikku and the librarian blinked. The librarian stiffened and looked around. "I haven't the time to read all this to you, and the Lady Fa is busy guarding the Emperor."

A young woman in an elabourately decorated teng yi stepped forward. She concealed her lips with a silk fan. "Lao Feng, might I be of some assistance to you?"

Feng looked up. He stared at the young woman, then gave a brief nod. "Lady Kisaragi, this is the young Lady Shu. She might be of some service to you."

Lady Shu chuckled politely, withdrawing the fan, and nodded to Feng. "Unless it would bother you, I would be grateful for the opportunity to read this to you."

Yuffie raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like it could be pretty boring. Are you sure you want to?"

The Lady Shu smiled and shook her head, waving her fan a little. "Dragons are one of my favourite subjects! It would be no bore at all."

And so they sat down. The older woman began to decipher the mountain of scrolls. She would often pick one up and open it, read a little, and then set it aside without reading a word aloud.

After several hours, a lunch, and a break to let Rikku shrink and whizz around the gardens ("Our little secret," Yuffie had told the Chinese woman, oh-so-casually walking a pair of tiny shuriken along her knuckles, and the woman had nodded vigourous agreement), they hit on something interesting.

Mei set a scroll down and pursed her lips, a line appearing on her forehead where she wrinkled penciled-on brows. "According to Hei Rei Fan, dragons can sometimes be coerced into inhabiting the body of an oracle."

Yuffie snickered. "So I'm a prophet? I've been seeing the future?"

The Chinese woman shook her head. "I don't think that's exactly it. This dragon, Leviathan, seems to be showing you his demesne. He may be from another world entirely, or from a world that has been destroyed."

The point of Wutai looking pretty much exactly like the Land of Dragons notwithstanding, exactly how would a dragon escape from a world that had been swallowed by the Heartless? And even if he managed to do that, how could he find his way to her brain without whatever elabourate ritual was required to make a dragon-oracle?

Yuffie's doubt evidently showed on her face, because the woman waved a hand. "There's more. This scroll claims that oracles have a special method of parting from the dragon, that they may have rest and then die."

Rikku let out a squeak, covered her mouth with her hands, and then demanded, in a muffled voice, "Is Yuffie going to have to…?"

Mei shook her head. "I don't think so. However, these rituals would be known only to the oracles, so I can't say for certain. But the scrolls stated that becoming an oracle unnaturally prolongs one's life, for dragons are undying."

"So kicking the dragon out probably kills them because they've lived longer than they should or whatever, right?"

Mei nodded. "It seems a likely conjecture. However, to know the truth…"

Yuffie grinned and rolled up imaginary sleeves. "I'm going to have to find me a dragon sage!"

Rikku laughed. The two of them slapped five.

* * *

  
_The Land of Dragons: Mountain Village_

Yuffie balanced on a rock, one finger brushing a tall bamboo sprout, and closed her eyes. She was still water; she was a clear, clean pool. The tide would join her soon; the river would run right through her. All she had to do was wait.

_Dra nejan ec drana. Tu oui vaam ed?_

She smiled. Leviathan might take up a hell of a lot of head space, but he definitely had his uses.

_Yes, I feel it_, she told him, and his pleasure was a chuckle that sounded like a flood.

Han unfurled the map again, squinted at it, then turned it upside down. He muttered to himself for several long moments before sighing and staring at the sky.

Rikku, tiny and happy and doing loop-de-loops in midair, easily dodging bamboo trees, laughed at him. "Are we lost again?"

"We shouldn't be lost," Han groused. "Lady Fa found her way there!"

Yuffie snickered, silently moving directly behind him, and pointed to an opening in the bamboo thicket. "The river's that way."

Han jumped and turned to look at her. His face said, quite clearly, How did you get here?, while his lips said, "How do you know?"

"I can feel the river." She shrugged. "Once we ford the river, there's a path up the mountain. We just have to ford it in the right place, right?"

Han nodded.

And, behold, the river lay just a few miles in the direction she'd pointed. Once they forded it, they let Rikku fly along the banks and followed her once she'd found the trail.

A quarter of the way up the mountain, Rikku had to rest. Yuffie stopped and let the fairy collapse onto her shoulder. She idly patted her friend's back with a finger and grinned when the tiny woman leaned into her neck.

The pass grew progressively colder as they went higher, until, at last, more than mere dustings of snow coated the ground and Yuffie could smell the smoke from the village.

The village had several wonderful amenities: a communal bath, a holographic moogle shop, and a Gummi landing. A woman in her mid-twenties—the village probably thought of her an old maid, Yuffie realized—greeted them in the center of the town and led them to a tidy, cozy house equidistant between the southern pass and the northern pass.

"Call me Yuu," the woman murmured, settling Rikku onto a pillow and pouring tea for her more conscious visitors. "What is it you seek in Xuejiang Village?"

"A dragon oracle," Yuffie told her, voice grim.

The woman tried to conceal her surprise, but Yuffie wasn't stupid. She said nothing about the lie, though, allowing the woman to ask, "Why?"

"I need his help."

Yuu took a cautious sip of tea and then said, "North of here, there is a cave with offerings for peace and prosperity. The oracle appears there, when she goes in public."

"Any idea where to find her when she's, uh, not in the cave?"

The woman gave her a pointed stare. "You do realize that we were recently invaded? This village was burned to the ground. If the Huns had known a dragon prophet lived among us, it would have been much worse." She closed her eyes and shuddered. "Much worse."

"So, basically, for everybody's safety, the oracle is all incognito?"

"For her sake and our own, yes. None of us knows who she is or where she is, or even if she is anywhere near this area."

Yuffie gave the older woman a suspicious glance, then shrugged. "Fine. I'll check the cave out tomorrow. And if she's not there?"

"Visit again the next day." Yuffie opened her mouth to reply, but the woman raised a hand to forestall her. "And if she is not there, you will continue to return to the cave each day. It is not for us to know when she will appear."

Yuffie scowled but bowed her head. "All right. So, try tomorrow?"

The woman nodded, so she stood up and headed for the next room, where she and Rikku would sleep.

"If you could please explain why you need the dragon oracle, that would be very helpful."

Yuffie whirled and eyed the woman narrowly. "You're her apprentice, aren't you?"

Yuu smiled. It looked like a smirk, almost wicked, on her round lips. And it didn't reach her eyes. "Something along those lines, yes."

* * *

  
_The Land of Dragons: Mountain Cave_

Yuffie trailed a hand along the cave wall as she made her way into its depths. Rikku had curled up in her jacket, in the spot where shoulder and sleeve joined. Rikku's heat and movement was welcome, though if the oracle was around, it would probably make her suspicious.

And, in the innermost depths of the cave, she found an altar on a natural pedestal. Wrapped in furs, seated on heavy fur rugs, a wizened old woman sat. Most of the woman's hair was still black, but there were thick streaks of grey, and even a streak of white. The woman's face was heavily lined, but not quite wrinkled, and her lips were chapped from cold.

Yuffie stopped still. "I assume you're the oracle?"

"I am dragon-touched, yes," the old woman intoned. She cracked a half-smile. "And I see you are, as well."

"Oh, good, it's obvious, huh?"

"Surely you can see that I am dragon-touched? It should be obvious to anyone with a god living in her mind."

Yuffie stared at the old woman, let Leviathan join her. But she could see nothing unusual about the oracle. So far as she could tell, she was looking at a stressed-out woman in her forties who got really cold sitting on stone floor.

Except.

There was something hazy about her. Like a heat shimmer, or the way the sky looked when you had your eyes open underwater.

"You're not real!"

"I am an illusion," the prophet allowed, "but I am quite real. There are, of course, those who teach that nothing we can touch is real."

Yuffie sat down in front of her. "Okay, you know I have a dragon in my head. How do I get it out?"

Utter shock. Silence. Once she'd apparently found her tongue, the oracle asked, "And why would you want to? You're young yet."

"Yeah, but I kind of liked being alone in my head, and it's not exactly like he's doing much for me!"

More shock. More silence. And then the old woman shook her head and sighed. "You realize that when he is with you, you are undying?"

"Sure. Undying, but not unaging. Not immune to injury or pain. I don't want that for myself. Besides—" _Cissuh sa!_ Leviathan insisted inside her head. "He's been telling me to summon him."

They sat in companionable silence while Rikku fussed around inside her jacket. At one point, Rikku poked her head out and looked up at Yuffie, but then the fairy shivered and ducked away.

At last, the oracle bowed her head. "I will show you how. If it is his will to be summoned and drawn from you, it will succeed. If not, I will show you how to live in harmony with him."


	7. 7: When Our Distance Causes Silence

My sacrifice is made  
Every note and every word you hear  
Comes from deep within  
—Iced Earth, "Burnt Offerings"

* * *

_(Roughly two weeks ago) _

Olympus Coliseum: The Underworld

"He can help us? You're sure of it?" Vincent gave the undead man a look that might have been dubious. Of course, it wasn't _actually_ dubious, but the expression was about as dubious as Vincent got.

Auron, as usual, smirked. "He likes to meddle."

Vincent didn't criticize the other man's attitude toward the person who could get them out. Auron wasn't an easy man to criticize. Not when they were so much alike. So he ignored what he felt was unfair commentary and asked, instead, "You're sure of this?"

Auron's tone took on an edge. "For the last time, yes."

And they closed the subject. Just like that. Within two days, Sora arrived with a friend in a ridiculous hat. They were participating in one of Hades' new tournaments. By prior arrangement, Auron joined them while Vincent stayed behind and killed Heartless for Munny. (Killing for money—how familiar it was, even if he no longer wore the blue suit.)

After the tournament, the silver-haired companion looked at him with more respect. Vincent didn't particularly care how the boy looked at him. Evidently, even Auron must occasionally stoop to 'meddling.'

"You wanna bust out of here?" The teen asked. He looked about the age Yuffie had been when she joined AVALANCHE.

Vincent nodded.

The boy stared at him for a few long moments, as if to judge his character. Vincent didn't look away. He would not show submission to a child. At least, not to a child who hadn't saved the world with him twice. (And tried a third time, and failed, through no fault of her own.)

At last the boy spoke, thrusting out his hand and saying, "I'm Riku."

"Vincent," he replied, accepting the hand after a moment of hesitation. In his head, Yuffie—classic Yuffie, sixteen-year-old Yuffie—informed Riku that his hat was stupid.

"Nice to meet you! So, where do you want us to drop you off?"

Vincent shrugged a shoulder. "The nearest world in the circuit."

Sora, who had most likely been searching for Auron and was now loudly voicing frustration at Auron's ability to disappear, joined them. "Uh, the Coliseum's right between the Land of Dragons and Beast's Castle."

"The Land of Dragons," said Auron, melting from the shadows in an unsettling trick Vincent had long mastered (ironically, at Cait Sith's insistence).

The Land of Dragons. No. It wasn't an option. It would surely remind him too much of Yuffie. Wutai had called itself exactly that, once. When it had been a mighty empire and not a pitiful smattering of cities.

"Beast's Castle. It sounds… fitting."

In his mind, Galian let out a lonely howl. Vincent wasn't the only one who missed AVALANCHE.

* * *

_(The Present) _

The Land of Dragons: Mountain Village

"No food for three days?" Rikku stared at her, so aghast that she nearly dropped out of the air. She caught herself, though, and beat her wings extra hard to regain altitude. Once she was back up, Yuffie withdrew the hand she'd automatically thrown out to stop her friend's fall.

"And silent meditation on a shiny round rock, to bathe it in our 'spiritual energy.' I know it's all crazy, but it's my best shot." Yuffie shrugged.

_Tu oui rydo sa dryd silr? _Leviathan asked.

_No offense, dude,_ she thought at him, _but I want my brain back._

_E fyc omfyc rana. _

She snorted. _You were not._ After all, he hadn't been, right?

But they agreed not to argue. There was no point. She owned the body, so the worst he could do was give her headaches. Which he did occasionally.

_E femm ku, ev dryd ec ouin vecr. Pid cissuh sa. _

* * *

_Olympus Coliseum: The Underworld_

Riku had grabbed onto his left wrist and was pulling him forward. Every motion brought a jolt of pain along his spine. Moving toward the light was like swimming upstream in a river made of sharpened hooks. Invisible, painful forces were constantly pushing his limbs backward.

The only thing that was spurring him on was AVALANCHE. Yuffie. Cloud. Tifa. Cid. Reeve. Barret. Red. He wanted to see them. Every time he closed his eyes, their faces burned on his eyelids.

He would not give up. He would not give in. He would endure this.

_Don't go back to the coffin, Vintard! _

He would keep his promise, damn it.

In his mind, Galian roared. His eyes began to burn in that painful sensation that meant they had flooded red. The Wolf wanted out.

Vincent forced his body to surge forward. A step at a time. Faster. Quickly, before the Underworld could pull him back.

And then, the most welcome sensation in years washed over him. Sunlight.

* * *

_The Land of Dragons: Mountain Village_

The sunlight on her face was distracting. Yuffie tried to ignore it and channel heavy philosophical thoughts toward the stone.

She had never felt like a bigger idiot in her life. Wearing the chocobo hoodie in public would have been less embarrassing. Somehow impaling her spleen with a toaster would have made more sense and served a better purpose. And been a tonne less boring. It would have been performance art! She could have called it _The Tragedy of the Feminine Role and the Ultimate Futility of the So-Called Sanctity of Marriage (One Performance Only). _It would've been great!

This? Not so great. Actually rather dumb.

An imaginary river washed over her. _Frah E ku, oui femm nasaspan. _

Remember what, she asked, channeling puzzlement and what it felt like to cast Firaga into the stone.

_Firaga ec y pyt etay. Blizzaga, oac. Firaga, hu. _

Yuffie said nothing in reply, but gave the stone her coldest magic. She hoped it wasn't her imagination that the stone seemed to be drinking it.

* * *

_Gummi Space: Olympus Coliseum_

This was his first time on a Gummi ship, but it seemed grey and uninteresting. The world had gone blurry at the edges. Vincent knew what it meant, but he was too tired to worry. A short hibernation sounded like such a good idea. The mere thought was sweet as sugar.

He knew he should worry about Auron on the ship's radio, arranging for a Gummi ship to be sent to Beast's Castle. They barely had 800 Munny between them. How could they buy a Gummi ship?

But Vincent's cabin—more like a closet, or a niche in a forgotten catacomb—was soft and dark. It would be so much easier and so much more pleasant to ignore everything.

"You guys are buying a Gummi ship?" He heard Sora ask.

But it didn't matter. Vincent let sweet, velvety sleep claim him.

* * *

_The Land of Dragons: Mountain River_

The river sparkled in the sunlight. It was far warmer here than at the peak, though cool breezes strayed near the river's banks.

Without hesitation, Yuffie waded in until the water burbled above her knees. She sat crosslegged on the riverbed and smiled at the rush of water past her chin. Strands of her hair lifted and floated in the stream.

She closed her eyes. The river's pulse beat all around her. She could feel it. It washed over her, surrounded her, filled her.

She was the river because Leviathan was the river.

Somewhere, the ocean pounded itself against the beach in its endless, roaring push-pull. She could feel that, too. Could hear it with the river's ears. Yearned for it as the river yearned, in a swift wordless churn of going somewhere.

Leviathan roared.

Her mouth opened.

The river rose. Water forced its way down her throat. Leviathan was screaming something unintelligible in her head. She raised a hand, tried to swim. The river didn't let her.

And, suddenly, the river was a sinuous, powerful form. Horned and scaled and perfect.

He opened his mouth. "Summon me, Kisaragi."

She wasn't drowning. Why had she thought she'd been drowning? This was what it felt like to be alive.

"Leviathan, god of Wutai, I summon you!" Was she screaming? Was she thinking? She wasn't sure.

And the scales were real, the horns solid. He was slick with saltwater, slippery and strong.

She threw back her head and laughed. He was so beautiful.

* * *

_Gummi Space: Beast's Castle_

"Wake up."

Vincent startled awake. He jerked, staring at the man who had wakened him. Auron was looking at him with a grim frown.

He fought to keep his temper. Unlike the last time he had awakened from hibernation—had it truly been that long ago?—it wasn't a losing battle. "Yes, Auron?"

Two bare words were all it took to bring him fully awake: "We're there."

Vincent nodded. "I see."

Brief silence. Vincent shifted where he lay, wondering if Sora or Riku had a hair brush.

"You do the talking."

Since he had slept for a day and a half, Auron had probably been called upon to socialize with the teenaged boys to whom they were in debt. Somehow, Vincent doubted that Auron had enjoyed that. Youthful people somehow seemed likely to irritate him. Auron wasn't exactly the most patient of people.

"As you wish."

"I will see to the delivery of a Gummi ship."

"Understood." Vincent stared hard at the other man. They were both observant enough, knew each other well enough, that the stare's meaning should have been obvious.

Auron remained silent, staring back at him. After several moments, Auron replied, "Most of the money came from Hades' private chamber. I considered it compensation for my services in trying to kill Cloud."

Hmph. Theft. Even his friendly affection for Yuffie had not inured him to his dislike of stealing. But in this case, considering what Hades had stolen from them both, he could quite easily overlook such a minor transgression.

Vincent rolled off the bed, wondering why it had ever seemed comfortable. It was little more than a thin mattress pulled onto a hard cot.

They went.

* * *

_The Land of Dragons: Mountain River_

The dragon curled around her, his scales rubbing against her bare thighs. It was a strange, almost scary, moment. She closed her eyes, soaked up the sunlight and the feeling of slick scales against her skin.

The stone in her hand began to freeze, going so cold it burned her hand. She flinched at the pain but focused on Leviathan.

Around them, the world was water. Shimmering blue stretched as far as she could see. She could hear the river's exultation; the Watergod was alive, the Watergod was risen.

But there was something sad in the way Leviathan looked at her.

He rested his head on top of hers. His scales scratched against her hair.

She closed her eyes.

The weight vanished.

The stone went calm, just a little chill. The river was no longer endless. She couldn't feel the ocean's heartbeat.

She looked at the shiny rock in her palm. Curled her fingers around it. Automatically, she lifted her fist behind her head. With just a quick flick of her arm, she could send that rock skipping out into the river. Never see it again. Leviathan would be gone.

She shook her head and tucked the stone into a pocket.

Her shoes made squishing sounds as she walked back to the village.

* * *

_Beast's Castle: The South Gate_

The stark, heavily-wrought iron gate seemed to keep the castle behind it at bay. The castle loomed, looking as if it weren't so much immobile as simply resting. The dark sky that burned above the castle seemed to press against the gates almost as much as the castle did.

Vincent closed his eyes and listened to the forest around him. He heard the heavy, breathing silence of the trees. The distant murmurs of a stream. But near the clearing that led to the castle, there was no sound save his own breathing. An unnatural quiet had descended upon this forest; Vincent somehow doubted it ever left.

He pressed his right hand against the cold metal. The roses wrought into the gate were of beautiful craftsmanship. In the privacy of his mind, he marvelled.

The gate creaked as it swung open. The flagstones of the walk to the courtyard couldn't seep their chill into his feet. For the first time in twenty years, he could feel warm.

The gate creaked again as Auron closed it.

"Quiet," the swordsman said.

Vincent nodded. "Yes."

"You worried?"

He allowed a smirk. "Maybe a little."

Auron snorted, moving forward. For the barest of moments, once they were side by side, Auron placed his hand on Vincent's shoulder.

They stood silently and stared at the castle, with its decrepit beauty and that insolent sky that bore down on them.

But then Auron withdrew his hand and Vincent glided forward. It felt almost as if the shadows were carrying him.

It only took three knocks until the heavy wooden door swung open.

* * *

TBC 17 MARCH 08 


	8. 8: Take This Sinking Boat and Point It Home

I went deep  
Into my graveyards  
Found my ghosts there  
They're with me still  
—Bishop Allen, "Ghosts Are Good Company"

Take this sinking boat and point it home—  
We've still got time  
—The Frames, "Falling Slowly"

* * *

_Beast's Castle: The Gates_

Vincent could see it in Auron's posture: the Gummi ship was satisfactory. He said nothing on the matter. This was only the second ship he had ever seen. He did not pretend to have an opinion of it.

He watched as stolen Munny was exchanged for a portfolio containing the correct calibrations and passwords to launch the ship. He watched as the salesman beamed back to his tug ship.

Auron looked over at him and commented, flatly, "Hn."

Vincent stared at the thing. As far as Gummi ships went, he had no idea if it was worth whatever they'd paid. As far as transportation went, he knew he personally would never have considered boarding it unless he had no other choice.

"Too bright a yellow," he said, trying not to look directly at it for too long. The yellow, which was admittedly blinding, wasn't the only thing embarrassing about it.

For one, it had a _moogle decal_.

For another, the name emblazoned on the ship's sides was _The Wyrdhare_.

'Wyrd' was certainly apt.

"Hn..." The other man allowed an almost smug sort of scowl as he grunted agreement.

Vincent looked at the amazingly ridiculous little ship. He looked over at Auron. Auron looked back at him.

Through the silent communication lent them by similar personalities and months spent in each other's company, they agreed that the sheer obnoxiousness of the ship's appearance was never to be mentioned again. Any allusions to what an eyesore it was would be ignored.

* * *

_The Land of Dragons: Imperial Palace_

"So he's gone?" Rikku was giving her a concerned look. There was a faint shimmer in the air around her, a shimmer Yuffie had noticed from childhood and had never cared about.

Yuffie stretched, lifting one leg by gripping the ankle and bending so her head nearly touched the other ankle. "He's out of my head, anyway."

_Summon me_, she remembered and immediately unbent in order to shake her head. "Cissuh sa," she tried to intone, but she didn't have nearly the right vocal cords to imitate that deep voice.

Rikku stared at her as if she'd grown horns and batwings.

"That's what he kept asking. Cissuh sa. Summon me." She looked at the map of the Land of Dragons and then shook her head again. "I think it's time to go back to Radiant Garden."

Rikku looked around and then pumped her fist in the air several times. "This place has been getting kind of boring," she said.

Yuffie nodded. "I know. Just need to arrange a ride home early, and then we'll be able to go torment Squall again."

She stuck her hand in her pocket, fingering the stone, and fought to keep her expression calm. The cool, smooth stone felt less like a stone and more like a snake's scale. She dug it out immediately and stared.

Sure, it had turned blue when Leviathan had gone to live in it, but now it was an iridescent blue-green. It was more hexagonal than round, with sharp-looking, serrated edges.

"That's a Charm," Rikku said, the shimmer intensifying in her surprise. "Yuffie, you made a Summon Charm!"

Yuffie stared at it in wonder. She could feel water, could feel ice and scales and a sinuous presence.

"Think I should give this to Sora?" She closed her fingers around the scale at the very thought.

* * *

_Beast's Castle: The Wyrdhare_

The radio emitted a crackling sound, startling Vincent more than he cared to admit. Consulting the manual with eyesight that, thankfully, was no longer grey around the edges, he pressed the button that would access the channel somebody was trying to open.

"This is Yuffie Kisaragi of Radiant Garden, currently in the Land of Dragons, to any Gummi Ships in the area," said a voice he knew all too well, though it sounded slightly older than he remembered from the Underworld.

Vincent bit his lip to keep from replying.

"Yuffie Kisaragi at Land of Dragons to any Gummi Ships in the area," she said again, and then muttered, "Come on, people, answer me. I know somebody's out there, I can see an open channel on the display!"

Caught out. As usual. Vincent closed his eyes and took a deep breath, formulating a response.

"Miss Kisaragi, this is Vincent Valentine, currently located at Beast's Castle." And then, because he couldn't stop himself, because he had to know, he asked, "Is something the matter?"

Her voice, when she asked, was sly. "Vincent! I thought you were stuck in the Underworld!"

"I escaped," he told her dryly, suddenly remembering _You are an ex-ninja_ and aching at the memory.

"And you found a Gummi Ship along the way, huh," her voice was dry. "Somebody's resourceful. So, tell me, you think this makes you a Space Pirate?"

_Everybody knows ninjas don't get along too well with pirates_, Vincent remembered from a lecture she'd given him far too many years ago. He almost wanted to add that, just to see how she would react. But she would think he was 'creepy' if he knew too much too soon. Instead, he replied, "Unlikely."

"Good," she said, voice bright and cheerful. "Hey, you seen Sora around recently?"

"Sixteen days ago, he helped Auron and me escape from the Underworld. Then he left. Why do you ask?"

"Call it curiosity," she replied. After a pause, she added, "I got something he may want to see. Oh well, he'll probably show back up at Radiant Garden, anyway. You, uh, got any room for a passenger on your Gummi Ship?"

Ah, Yuffie. She never changed, did she? He wanted to tell her yes, because he'd watched her die twice, but he thought of what Auron would say on the matter. "For the right price, it can be arranged."

An explosive, teenaged sigh. "All right, all right. How much Munny are we talking, here?"

He wasn't exactly informed on just what the right price would be. The Yuffie he remembered wasn't exactly a generous soul, but AVALANCHE had broken her of her tendency to cheat others. Mostly. Did this Yuffie steal? There was no way of telling. Yet.

"What would you consider a fair price?"

"How 'bout a flat rate? Two hundred Munny?"

It seemed reasonable. Commercial airship rides, before his world had ended, had run between a hundred to a hundred and fifty gil. Why wouldn't a ride on a Gummi Ship be slightly more expensive?

"You have a deal." They needed to leave Beast's Castle, anyway. Even after his recent discussion with Auron, Belle and the Beast had seemed... very hesitant and over-curious. The religious fast and meditation idea weren't going to keep the peace much longer.

"Great," she said. "So you'll take me back to Radiant Garden?"

"We will."

Was he ready to come face-to-face with Yuffie? Vincent wasn't sure. But he would have to face AVALANCHE sooner or later. He was still constantly hungry--_Geez, Vince, maybe you should drink somebody's blood_, offered the mental construct of Yuffie he'd created to stay sane--but the thirst had gone away and he was beginning to look more like an actual three-dimensional person and less like a collection of skin and bones.

"When can I expect you guys?"

Vincent consulted the owner's manual again and then checked the ship's navigation systems. The maps informed him that the Land of Dragons was perhaps a day's travel away, by the Disney Castle's reckoning.

"Sundown tomorrow, Disney reckoning," he told her.

"I'll watch for you." The words were naive, hopeful, but her tone was anything but. Her tone was certain.

He knew exactly what she would say if she had a chance to see the _Wyrdhare_. No, that wasn't true. Nobody could actually predict what Yuffie would say. The only accurate forecast he could make was an eighty percent chance of mockery, partly joking, with intermittent showers of laughter.

He really, really did not need Yuffie Kisaragi laughing at his Gummi Ship. "No need. I'll beam down."

"I'm in the Palace."

_Fitting_, he thought. It hurt. "I'll find you."

"Then I'll be waiting," she told him and he fought the urge to scoff.

Yuffie Kisaragi didn't wait for anything.

* * *

_The Land of Dragons: Imperial Palace_

Yuffie sat cross-legged with her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands, watching the Gummi landing point. Vincent Valentine hadn't showed up yet and she and Rikku were getting bored. Well, she was getting bored. Rikku was flying loop-de-loops and upside down, shedding glitter, a faint haze surrounding her.

The fairy was almost impossible to bore.

Sundown, Disney reckoning. Above the palace, the sky was just beginning to show streaks of red and pink. That meant the sky had turned to that thick, inky blue night above King Mickey's castle, and Radiant Garden was in that hazy glow right after sunset but before night rose to replace it. Ansem's Castle and Castle Obsidian would both be outlined against the sky; twin ruins standing strong against the dusty, empty valley.

Yuffie hated it when other people were late. Waiting around was boring. It drove her crazy; she was already itching at her eyelids and about ready to sharpen the Four-Point.

It happened gradually. The landing point began to glow just a little brighter, then just a little brighter than that, on and on until it was like somebody'd thrown a star at the ground and it had gone _splat_. A barrier of light rose up around it and Rikku, who had been winging toward the landing point, squeaked, faltered, dropped in midair, and then flew back toward Yuffie.

The little fairy clung to Yuffie's hair, resting one knee against the top of her ear. Yuffie could feel puffs of air from Rikku's beating wings.

One minute, he wasn't there; the next, he was. She got a glimpse of black pants and a red cloak, but the colors looked washed out because of the barrier. His head was bowed. Even through the yellow and green light, Yuffie could see the dark outlines of his eyelashes against his pale, fragile-looking cheeks. His nose looked sharp enough to cut someone.

The light dimmed and then died.

Rikku's hand tightened on her hair as his eyelids fluttered open. He looked up.

Yuffie's heart stopped.

They stood there, staring at each other, for a long, silent while.

"So," she laced her fingers together and touched her palms to the back of her head, elbows spread wide, "you're Vincent Valentine."

He inclined his head. "You must be Yuffie Kisaragi."

She grinned. "You're late, you know. Not nice to keep a lady waiting."

He raised an eyebrow. It formed a delicate arch, deliberate and perfectly sculpted—and wasn't that just nine extra helpings of _I'm a pretty princess_? Without a single word, he managed to cast multiple aspersions on her status as a lady.

She refused to feel in any way lessened by his princess-a-licious doubt. She folded her arms and gave him the steady stare she'd learned from Squall. It had never failed to make Sora quail, the two or three times she'd tried it on him.

Vincent's lower lip twitched. Rather than smile and end the silent conversation, or raise his other eyebrow to continue it, he said, "We should get back to the ship."

"I'm good with that," she said and felt Rikku nod enthusiastically.

Rikku flitted away from her head. The shimmer in the air intensified as Rikku grew until she was just a little shorter than Yuffie. Their fingers threaded together, gripping hands tightly.

"You're magic's not gonna last the trip," Yuffie told her; Rikku's only response was an upturned nose and an emphatic hmph.

The landing point blinded them as it beamed them up.

Sure enough, Rikku was tiny again when the stars and spots exploding on her eyeballs faded away. Yuffie took two dizzy steps forward, even as the tiny hand clenched in hers became large again. She caught herself on the edge of something, dragged herself along until her knees felt more solid than jelly and her stomach didn't seem to be wandering around in her mouth.

Behind her, Vincent made a faint noise. Yuffie whirled to look at him and was heavily disappointed to find that he only looked paler than he had before. He wasn't green around the gills, he wasn't obviously dizzy. Just pale.

Life was soooooo unfair!

Somebody grunted. Yuffie whirled to face him, hand on the Four-Points grip. She caught sight of what looked like a mountain in a red teng-yi, like the people in the Land of Dragons had worn. A fierce-looking scar ran through one eye.

"So, this is the girl?" The mountain rumbled.

Vincent gave the mountain a Look. The mountain Looked right back. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds before Vincent did that queenly head inclining thing again and answered, "Auron, this is Yuffie Kisaragi. Miss Kisaragi, this is Auron."

Yuffie waved, pointed to Rikku, and added, "And that's Rikku, the amazing size-changing fairy. So, where are you guys going after Radiant Garden?"

Auron looked long and hard at both Yuffie and Rikku before finally grunting and turning back to the navigation console. Vincent took a seat in the pilot's chair, his hands easily wandering over the controls, pressing buttons, flicking switches. Auron set their course.

"We'll stay in Radiant Garden a while," Vincent said, voice absent.

She swallowed hard. She didn't know these men, didn't really trust them as anything more than non-psychos. But somewhere in the pit of her stomach, she was glad she might get to see more of them.

* * *

TBC 23 June 2008


	9. 9: Leaving Tartarus

_Radiant Garden: Landing Point_

Home was home was home was _home_; the sun was going down over both Ansem's castle and Maleficent's, the sky was that vivid pink-purple of dusk fading into night. Stars just barely visible glittered. It was like a great big _Welcome home, Yuffie_ sign made with really shiny paint.

She had always liked stars.

Rikku laughed and danced in her teeny form, feet lighter in the air than a butterfly's. Her wings shed glitter.

Yuffie closed her fingers around the Summon Charm. She could feel its occupant. The rough scales, the slippery-smooth feeling of snakeskin under her hands, the river's furious thunder. The ocean's push-pull heartbeat.

No way was she giving this thing over to Sora. It had come to her for a reason. Leviathan was _hers_.

Behind her, Vincent stopped moving; she could hear the metal shoes come to a rest on the cobblestones. Like her, he seemed captivated by the view of Radiant Garden.

"Home sweet home," she said. Behind her, Vincent went stiff as a board. He did that a lot; she'd come to figure out he was doing it by the sound his cloak made.

"Not yet," he murmured. "Perhaps, though…"

Rikku did another loop-de-loop, tugged a strand of Yuffie's hair, and then backed away in the air.

"We're home, we're home! I'm gonna go tell Yunie and Paine!" A Crazy-Ivan midair flip, a twirl and a beautiful balletic swandive, and Rikku tossed back, amidst the fairy glitter, "And don't forget! You have to help us look for our treasure!"

Yuffie swung out a hand, gusting air toward Rikku. The fairy adjusted and laughed, but then began to hover. "What's wrong, Auron?"

The ninja turned to look toward the mountain in red, but his head had dipped beneath that high collar and he'd found a pair of sunglasses, which were riding low on his eyes. Whatever clue Rikku had used to determine that Auron was somehow upset, Yuffie wasn't picking it up.

"Yunie," Auron said, his voice faintly distant. "Yuna, daughter of Braska?"

"Something like that!" Rikku did a twirl again, treating the air as if it were a solid surface and somehow managing a cartwheel. "Her name's Yuna, but I call her Yunie."

"I should have known," Auron murmured, and Vincent made a soft noise.

Yuffie rolled her eyes. Men in large amounts of red were all the same, it seemed. Especially if they wore long coats and kept high collars. She skipped-hopped-somersaulted forwards, toward the figure in black and white that she recognized. She knew Leon's graceful, prideful, lordly, leonine stride when she saw it; she'd have known it with her eyes closed and her nose pinched shut.

Squall stopped short when he saw her. He watched her for a few moments, one hand at his side clenching into a fist, before he cocked a hip and settled his twitching hand on his pelvis, adjusting automatically for the weight of the gunblade at the small of his back. "You're back."

"Way to go, Squally Polly," Yuffie remarked archly. "Remind me to buy you some extra fancy conditioner for that one."

His voice, wry and just barely nasal, turned even more wry, almost caustic. "It's Leon."

"Yeah, but it uses like six kinds of shampoo."

He rolled his eyes at her, she rolled her eyes right back, and apparently the sun ate the moon and the universe exploded in a shower of cheese, because there, right there, in the middle of the square and in front of the entire town, Squall Leonhart showed affection. He reached out, playfully ruffling the hair on the top of her head the way an older brother might, gently, gently pushing at her with callused fingers encased in black leather.

Yuffie caught his arm at the wrist, kept it stationary, ducked away, still holding the arm. "You missed me!"

Squall didn't answer. Even teasing her, he'd been stiff like an angry alley cat, and now he was looking directly behind her. At Vincent and Auron. She squinted against the sunlight and noticed that his eyes were narrowed.

Any minute now, he'd be reaching for his gunblade and stretching out his other arm to cast Blizzaga.

"Aw, c'mon, Squall. Play nice," she said, reaching behind herself for the Four-Point.

It wasn't like she was going to attack Squall. But she'd at least defend Vincent if Squall decided to play brain-boom with Blizzaga. After all, there was nothing quite like a Thundaga spell for a showy mid-air magic counter. There'd be lightning bolts all over the block and ice shards exploding in the air. Glittering, catching the sun. There would be rainbows. Yuffie almost informed Squall of this, that their magic would make sparkles and rainbows, see now don't you want to just play nice, but thought better of it. Squall had no problem saying "no."

Squall shot Vincent and Auron a look of something that might have been disgust, might have been anger. He shrugged one shoulder in an elegantly angry rolling motion, then turned away with a mutter. "Let's just get them to Merlin's."

* * *

_Radiant Garden: Merlin's House_

Yuffie paced--though it probably didn't look like pacing--in Merlin's kitchen, anxiously watching the kettle Merlin had hung over his fire. If she could just watch the steam come out of the kettle, she might win that bet she and Squall had made years and years ago, when they were children. Only she never managed to see the kettle boil over. Something always happened to distract her.

"Would you _stop_ that?" Squall snapped.

Yuffie turned, stuck her tongue out at Squall, and kept on pacing. Her gaze moved naturally to Vincent, who was leaning in one of the far corners of the room. He had positioned himself as far away from Squall as he could. As if he expected trouble. And the way he was rubbing at the underside of his gauntlet, as if he was getting ready to use it...

She stomped a foot and let a little Thunder spell flare out, static electricity crackling through the air and making her hair stand on end. "This is stupid! You're both being totally lame and retarded! Squall, Vincent hasn't acted like a threat yet. Vincent, Squall's not going to try to kill you!"

Squall looked up from his apparent Corner of Woe, Angst, and Lionliness. His eyes glimmered with something flat and strange and not the man she'd grown up with. "It's Leon," he insisted.

From his seat at Merlin's table, Auron snorted. "The girl is right. You're both being ridiculous."

Squall snorted right back, which Yuffie fought the urge to smack him in the back of the head for. Vincent, on the other hand, remained quiet. As if he was afraid to draw attention to himself.

It just didn't make any sense. Vincent had survived for years in the Underworld. What did an angsty twentysomething have on him? Admittedly, Squall clearly won the hair contest, and from the looks of Vincent's scary black skinsuit, probably the muscle bulk contest. But Vincent projected an aura of dangerousness, of deadliness. Something in the glint of his eyes, the dim red glow, made it clear that Vincent Valentine was not a man anybody wanted to tangle with. At least not lightly.

There came the sound of heavy footsteps and a spear swinging against the back of someone's legs from outside even as the kettle finally whistled. She whirled to face the fire, but the kettle was boiling out regular white steam. Frustrated that, once again, Merlin's kettle refused to do anything weird when she wanted to prove how magical it was, she snatched it off the fire and dumped water into the teapot. Since he and Cid were still practically living together, any teapot in the house was guaranteed to have tea leaves in it. Fresh tea leaves--and go figure how _that_ worked.

The doorknob turned.

Yuffie looked around frantically for something with which to placate the spear-wielding Gummi expert who would walk through the door at any moment. Squall, leaning in a corner. Useless. Auron, sitting at the table. Not exactly a people person. Vincent, standing stock still in the corner farthest away from Squall. Guaranteed to piss Cid off. Unmade tea… no help at all.

Cid's rasping, gruff drawl preceded him into the room, along with the scent of cigarette smoke.

"Squall, what's this I hear about--" He stopped, stared at Yuffie. "Well, well, the brat's home!"

"I'm home," she agreed, wishing desperately that the tea was ready.

Cid grinned at her, thumbed his nose. "Good t'see you again, twerp."

She grinned back, rubbed the back of her head. "Good to see you too, old man."

Yuffie moved forward, half-instinctively, flinging herself into a hug. Cid caught her, his stocky arms closing around her. Ever since she was little, Cid had always given the best hugs. He still did.

He smelled of cigarette smoke, which he hadn't smelled of in years, since right after the Heartless ate Radiant Garden. And his shirt was damp with sweat.

"You've been smoking!" She accused, pushing him backward.

Cid arched an eyebrow at her, as if to ask her if she wanted to point out anything more obvious. He had a lit cigarette between his lips.

"Put that out right now! I'll tell Aerith!"

"The hell you will," he told her, but he stubbed it out on his boot anyway. He flicked the butt out the crack in Merlin's door, then closed the door and stepped in.

Over in his corner, Vincent shifted. He uncrossed his arms, swept that cloak back.

Yuffie winced. She'd hoped that Vincent would go at least two minutes without somehow calling Cid's attention to himself.

Cid squared himself in Vincent's direction, his hands resting on his hips. "You must be Vincent Valentine. Squall and Yuffie told me about you."

Vincent nodded exactly once. "I am."

Cid tilted his head first to one side, then to the other. He reached behind his ear, probably seeking a cigarette, and pulled out a pencil. Yuffie watched Cid's fingers smooth the wood over for a few seconds, as if he were thinking of snapping it.

Oh. No.

"They said you were less than helpful." Cid's tone was pointed.

Vincent spread his hands. His right hand looked helpless, but the left hand, the clawgauntlet, it just looked sharp, gleaming in the dim light. "I told them all I knew."

Cid nodded. "Cloud was never an easy kid," he said.

There were entire worlds of hurt in that sentence. It summed up everything they all hated and loved about Cloud. Just like everyone was a little in love with Aerith, because she was so very good that you couldn't do anything else, Cloud had been, briefly, that solid rock that they all needed. Squall had tried to take his place, had tried so hard, but he needed him too.

Vincent was quiet for a long time. Finally, he said, "I imagine so."

They stood there, staring at each other without saying anything, for several long moments.

When she'd had enough, Yuffie took a step forward, pointed to Auron. "So you've met Vincent Valentine. The big guy in red sitting at Merlin's tea table is Auron Mcgrumpmeister."

"Mcgrumpmeister, huh," Cid said. She could practically see his lips twitching into something like a crazy wry smile. He was clearly thinking, _The twerp and her crazy made-up names._

Auron looked up, twitched his mouth in a wry, bitter smirk. "My preferred name," he said, voice completely dry.

Cid laughed, rocked back on his hips a little, head tossed back. He had a belly laugh, warm and dry and she'd missed it, she hadn't even known she'd missed it until she'd heard it. There had been a hole in her heart that was Cid-shaped, Squall-shaped, Aerith-shaped, home-shaped, and it meant more to her than stupid dreams and voices in her head and men she was strangely fascinated by.

Yes, there was still a ragged Cloud-shaped wound in her soul, because they all needed him, because they all missed him, because he was _family_, even if he didn't want to be, but there was no way she was leaving Radiant Garden to go looking for that idiot. Not without the rest of them. She found herself grinning at the thought of the entire Radiant Garden family stuffed into one airship looking for Cloud. It'd be worse than a sitcom!

And Squall just stood in his spot and looked pissed. She could see the bad mood gathering like dark stormclouds over his pretty hair. His scowl was thunderous, like an avalanche of anger right there between his eyebrows on the bridge of his nose. Entire universes of dissatisfaction and destructive energy crackled in the distinct downward curve of his gorgeous lips.

"Alright," Cid said after a while. "If these two don't mean any harm, they're welcome to stick around the Garden."

She hadn't thought it was possible, but Squall's aura of anger grew exponentially. Then it exploded outwards, all without him saying a word. The entire room seemed to go darker as he fixed them all with a stare that could have meant anything from _Great, now we're all going to be killed in our beds_, to _Where is my other other ultimate gunblade, I think I need to fix this_, to _Why did you kill my puppy?_

Because it was what annoying little sisters did, Yuffie let out a loud whoop of joy and did a few forward handsprings. She ended with a cartwheel and a sunny smile. "Thanks, Cid."

Squall's glower only intensified. He was now radiating enough broodiness for two Sephiroths and a Cloud on a bad day, and enough silently suffered, soul-wrenching anguish for Vincent when he was in full on You Cannot Understand My Suffering Doom Mode.

Cid thumbed his nose, flicked his eyes over to Squall, and said, "No problem."

He arched both his eyebrows in a very significant expression.

Translation: stop taunting him. Yuffie sighed but did her best to gain a measure of dignity and seriousness. Squall did his level best to lighten up, which mostly consisted of straightening out that tension wrinkle on the bridge of his nose and thinning his lips into a straight line.

Yuffie looked guiltily at him, then remembered.

"Aerith! Vincent, Auron, c'mon, if you're gonna live here you gotta know Aerith!"

* * *

_Radiant Garden: Aerith's House_

Aerith squealed happily when she opened the door. Yuffie flung herself into Aerith's arms while Rikku leapt off her shoulder and fluttered backward. Aerith enfolded her in a tight hug. It was the best moment ever, even better than Cid's cigarette hug, better than Squall showing some affection, better than puppies, kittens, fairies, or shiny things that didn't belong to her.

And it was over too soon, but that was okay because Tifa had showed up and now they were hugging, and that was almost as good.

"I'm glad you're back safe and sound," Tifa said, those fragilely strong doll-hands cupping Yuffie's cheek.

"How did it go?" Aerith asked.

Yuffie dug out the scale-shaped Summon Charm. Aerith's eyes widened. She reached out, touched it, closed her eyes.

"Leviathan," Aerith murmured. Her eyes fluttered open again and she smiled at someone who had somehow silently appeared behind Yuffie's left shoulder. Had Rikku fluttered back to them?

Yuffie turned to look. Nope. Not Rikku. It was Vincent. And for the first time since she'd met him, Vincent was wearing a tiny smile on his face. His expression was completely open, eyes full of something like relief or hope, some sort of light, and it was like a punch in the stomach. Hurt and jealousy ate at her insides, made it hard to smile.

She managed. "Vincent, this is Aerith Gainsborough and Tifa Lockhart. Tifa and Aerith, Vincent Valentine."

"Aeris, Tifa," he said, nodding his head exactly once.

Yuffie didn't know whether to shriek with laughter that he'd got her name wrong or to punch him in the stomach. "It's _Aerith_," she told him. "It's not like I was lisping."

"Aerith," he repeated, as if he were rolling the name around on his tongue. Like a queen tasting wine, she thought. It was a bitter thought that left a sick taste in her mouth.

* * *

_Radiant Garden: Market Place_

Vincent made his way to the strange, empty oucropping where the _Wyrdhare_ had beamed them. It was as good an introduction to the Garden as any.

Auron was already there, waiting for him. Vincent allowed an eyebrow to arch and was only faintly surprise at Auron's nod in response.

"Well?"

"Hn," was Auron's response, followed by a quiet, "It'll do."

Vincent looked around at the gray cobblestone, at the spangle of stars in the sky, the broken towers on the horizon, the puffs of smoke from chimneys. This wasn't home, this would never be home, the Planet was gone and so was the AVALANCHE he had known.

But it was a start. And AVALANCHE was still alive, even if they were a tangle of familiar and unfamiliar. He had escaped the Underworld, had found them again, had found a place he could belong, maybe, if he wanted.

It was a start.

* * *

Been a long road to follow  
Been there and gone tomorrow  
Without saying goodbye to yesterday  
Are the memories I hold still valid?

—Maaya Sakamoto, "Gravity"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This it, folks! We've reached the end of this arc, and the next arc would be better served as its own story. Enjoy your delicious final chapter, and I'll hopefully have the sequel underway very soon. (Certainly less than a year, anyway.)


End file.
